The Sun, the Moon, and the Sky
by Quicklove202
Summary: Once Upon A Time AU. The beginning of the Unholy Trinity in Storybrooke. Eventual Quinntana.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Been trying to catch up on Once Upon a Time lately and somehow this plot bunny came about and then demanded to be written.**

**This isn't a crossover with the show, I'm just borrowing the setting and premise. No OUAT characters make an appearance. **

**Also, ****I don't say it outright, but I give a bunch of hints as to who their fairytale alter egos are. If you know your Once Upon a Time/Disney, it should be easy to figure out. If not, just ask, and I'll tell you.**

**As always, read. enjoy. review!**

* * *

><p>Snow.<p>

She fucking hates snow.

And ice.

Winter in general, really.

Santana stares out the frosted window, glaring in contempt at all the marshmallow fluff people called snow outside. It was everywhere. Seriously. There wasn't a single surface that didn't look like it'd been barfed on by the abominable snowman.

It was disgusting. Give her summer any day. Or spring. Hell she'd even settle for autumn. Anything that wasn't _this_.

Santana shifts restlessly and removes her gaze. She's just fucking glad she wasn't out there now. Although once school was out she was gonna have to trek through that shit to get to work and she was not looking forward to it, to say the least.

Goddamn. She can't help but steal another scathing glance at the loathsome sight. The weather was just one of the many things she hated about this stupid town. Arguably it was the worst part about living in Storybrooke, especially around this time of year, but to Santana, the snow doesn't even compare to the unbearable monotony plaguing the town.

Every day here felt the same. _Was_ the same. Every single day. And as of late, it was a fact that was really starting to bother her.

(What made matters worse was knowing she was the only person who felt that way).

Hell. Just thinking about how fucking uneventful and dull as shit this place was made her want to burst out of her skin and attack something.

"Santana."

Her head snaps up, startled out of her daze. "Yeah?"

From behind her canvas, Brittany looks at her with concern. When her gaze flickers, Santana looks down and quickly realizes she'd snapped the pencil she'd been apparently holding. Whoops.

"You alright, San?"

"Fine." she murmurs, releasing the flimsy piece of wood with dismay. She silently shakes her head of all previous thoughts and after taking a moment to recollect herself, glances down at the still blank piece of paper in front of her. "My English paper doesn't seem to want to write itself today."

She leans back in her chair and slouches, folding her arms across her chest. She exhales deeply. She's bored and therefore in a mood, but she doesn't want to risk taking it out on Brittany, her being the only one here and all, so she takes a metaphorical step back.

Her temperament's been all out of whack lately. Probably meant she's getting her period soon...

"Then work on it another day." Brittany resolves easily enough, stepping back behind her canvas.

Brittany, her little artiste, loved to paint. (To the point where she clocked in twice as many hours in the school art studio than the teacher herself did). And Santana admired her friend's passion. Really she did. But at the same time maybe even envied it a little too. She didn't have anything like that in her life, something she lived and breathed for. Hell she didn't even have a hobby. Unless Brittany counted as a hobby, which she's pretty sure she doesn't.

Rising from her chair, Santana walks over to her blonde friend and takes a look at how her latest piece was coming along. Unsurprisingly, it's nothing short of spectacular. Every time Brittany put paint and brush to canvas, a breathtaking work of art always came out of it.

Whereas whenever Santana attempted to paint something, it always turned out looking like a drunk animal fell into some paint, rolled around on the canvas, and then died on it.

"Santana?"

"Hmm?" She turns her attention to look at Brittany.

"Do you ever feel like you're missing something?" Santana can feel her brow draw together at Brittany's sudden, out of the blue question. "Like something you can't remember?"

Santana doesn't quite know how to answer that. "Where'd that come from, B?" she questions, bemused.

Brittany just shakes her head, unknowing, still staring thoughtfully at her portrait. Santana glances back at it too, as if it might help her to gain some insight on where the blonde was coming from.

A late evening sky consisting of various sunset hues filled the canvas, with floating lights as the main feature, their glow dancing across the water depicted below.

Brittany's been drawing those lanterns a lot lately, she's noticed, but Santana doesn't know where they came from. It's not like Brittany has them at home and she's certainly never seen them anywhere around town before.

"I dream about them a lot." Brittany says, unintentionally offering the explanation Santana was looking for. Like she often does. "So I figured that was my brain's way of saying I should get them down on a canvas so I can have them forever. They're so familar, like I've seen them in person before, but I can't remember where." She cocks her head to the side, her lips pursed and brow cutely furrowed, as she tries to figure it out.

It doesn't take long before that line of concentration quickly evaporates, derailed by more pressing matters. Brittany removes her gaze from her painting and settles on Santana. "You never did answer my question." she reminds lightly.

Right. "Uh." Santana squints in thought, needing a second. "Do I feel like I can't remember things? I don't think so." she answers though it comes out sounding more like a question.

She doesn't feel like she's a forgetful person, if that's what Brittany's getting at.

"Lucky." Brittany gets back to painting. "I feel like I'm forgetting stuff all the time. Important stuff too. But it's not like forgetting to do a chore or do homework. Like..." She trails off for a second, trying to find the right words, but is ultimately unable to. "I don't know. Everything's hazy when I try to think back on it. Like I'm on cold medicine."

"I'm missing something." she states with a definitive nod. "I just don't know what."

When she looks over at Santana again, a sheepish grin overtakes her face. "I'm not making any sense, am I?" she chuckles, the Latina's face saying as much.

"Well, yeah." Wait. Santana shakes her head, embarrassed. "I mean no...well, yes _and_ no."

Brittany laughs again. "You're so articulate, S." she teases.

"Whatever." she scoffs, playfully glaring at the blonde. The warning bell rings then, signaling the end of lunch. Her and Brittany share a look and a silent groan.

Brittany shakes her head as she begins cleaning up her work space. "When I run for class president next year, _and win_, I'm going to make it illegal to set a time limit on lunch." she states matter-of-factly.

Santana chuckles and nods. "Okay. I'll be sure to add that to your growing list of presidential demands. Right under root beer water fountains and robot teachers."

"Don't forget topless Tuesdays!"

Her nose scrunches at the reminder. "Uh, how about just having taco Tuesdays instead?" Cause she is so not okay with half naked students walking around like it was Woodstock, burning her corneas one day out of the week.

"Or...how about topless taco Tuesdays?" Brittany suggests, linking their arms as they head out. "_That's_ even better."

Santana laughs in spite of herself. "No, Britt, that's just wanky."

—

Group projects.

Ugh. She hated, loathed, despised, and abominated group projects. Anyone who wasn't Brittany was not someone she wanted to deal with, let alone have to work with.

_But_...because good grades equal graduation, which in turn equates to her getting the fuck of this town for good, Santana keeps her disdain to herself.

Slouched in her chair, Santana sits and waits while the rest of the class divides into teams of three. She picks at her nails, bored and about as uninterested as you can get. Brittany had disappeared on her a few minutes ago to find them a partner.

Santana doesn't bother because she really doesn't care who it is they end up with. She'll hate him/her regardless.

"Got our third member!"

At that proud proclamation, she grudgingly shifts her attention away from her cuticles and lifts her gaze. She can't help the way her eyebrows lift at the sight before her. Because really, Brittany had brought back none other than _Quinn Fabray_ to be round out their little trio.

Santana doesn't know the girl personally, never even spoken to her before, but because their school is small everyone around here at least knows _of_ each other. Which is why she knows the girl's name.

It's definitely not because they're friends or anything.

That being said she doesn't know much about Fabray, aside from speculation. She's the quiet type, but not from shyness, Santana doesn't think. No way. She's more or less one one of those girls that gives off the 'I'm better than you therefore I refuse to associate with anyone' vibe so people automatically steer clear of her.

While Brittany goes about introducing them, Santana removes her boots from their perch on the table. She remembers Brittany once mentioning that she knew Quinn in some way - through family or something - but because Quinn's one of those people who like to keep to themselves, she's never really tried to pursue a relationship.

Though now it looks as though she might have changed her mind about that.

To which Santana responds by throwing her bestie her patented deadpanned 'no me gusta' face.

Fortunately Quinn steers clear of any attempts at socialization with her, choosing instead to take to a chair. Santana can't help but notice that, even when she's doing something as simple as sitting down, there's a regality to Quinn in the way she carried herself.

It isn't the first time that particular thought has crossed her mind.

...That's not to say that she thinks about Quinn regularly or anything. Or watches her in a werid, Swimfan kind of way. Cause she sure as hell doesn't. It's just a person had to be blind to not notice how whenever Quinn walked down the hallways kids parted like the red sea for her.

Like she was a fucking queen or something.

It was a strange sight to behold considering the blonde was by no means the HBIC of the school.

No, that title belonged to _her_.

"Don't think we're gonna pick up your slack for any reason whatsoever." Santana starts suddenly, that last thought evoking a flare of competitiveness from within her.

Regardless of the blonde's uncanny ability to part a crowd without even trying, there was only room enough for one HBIC around here. And she sure as hell wasn't backing down anytime soon.

"You will be doing a third of the work. End of story. And if you end up being the reason we don't get anything higher than an A on this stupid assignment, I _will_ kick your skinny white ass clear across town. _Comprendes?_"

Now this is the part where people usually go wide-eyed, gulp, shrink in fear, cower and nod...etc, all of which Santana is a-okay with. In fact she revels in it.

But Quinn, it seemed, was above all that. She doesn't so much as bat an eyelash at her threat. No instead of doing any of the above, she simply stares and confirms her understanding _in spanish_. (And with surprising fluency no less).

It's a first for Santana...and not at all unnerving.

—

Santana stares at the open notebook before her, seeing the writing but not fully processing it. Once again she finds herself unable to focus. Tired and annoyed, she turns her head away and takes a look around. She's in her abuela's restaurant now, with Brittany and Quinn, the three of them having chosen this place to work on their project. Well, it wasn't Santana's choice per say, although she was the one to bring it up as an option. It was merely a suggestion, she hadn't thought they'd actually agree to it.

Whatever.

Looking across the way, behind the counter, Santana taps her nails in silent deliberation. She wants to go and get herself another soda, figuring the caffeine would help her to concentrate, but she doesn't want to risk her abuela cornering her again and another argument ensuing.

Them fighting was another thing that happened every day without fail. Her abuela liked to badger her every chance she got into taking on more waitressing shifts (as if she didn't work enough overtime as it was) but Santana would never give in. She knew what that _vieja_ was really trying to do. Trying to get her to take on the extra responsibilites so that she could learn to run the restaurant, that way she could take over for her abuela when she ultimately retired.

Like hell that was gonna happen. No way was Santana spending the rest of her life in Storybrooke, stuck running her family's restaurante of all things.

Shaking her head, Santana reverts her attention to the task at hand. Or at least tries to. She ultimately fails, Brittany's incessant chatter doing nothing to help her focus. Sighing, Santana discreetly casts a glance across the table at the _other,_ non-Brittany blonde, sitting in front of her.

Rather than balancing out their chemical equations like she was supposed to, Quinn's attention was settled out of the frosted window, her chin in hand, the assignment completely forgotten.

Santana's gaze lingers, partially captivated by the girl's ridiculously pretty eyes, the ones that were so perfectly illuminated by the light. If she wasn't so concerned with getting caught then embarrassed, she probably would have stared a little longer. Just by looking at her eyes, Santana could see that there was much ruminating about in that blonde's head. Though about what exactly she couldn't even begin to say.

Which really bothered her. She liked to think herself quite perceptive, able to figure people out relatively fast and with little effort, but where Quinn Fabray was concerned she was drawing a big fat blank.

Unlike Brittany who was easier to read than a Dr. Seuss book but twice as much fun.

Her gaze drops back to the notebook in front of her, which is really Quinn's. She's supposed to be reading over the paragraphs the blonde wrote, to ensure it wasn't a rambling mess of crap that could potentially affect their grade, but the only thing that manages to catch her eye are the little drawings done in the margins.

"So I take it you're enjoying this weather."

Her voice startles Quinn out of her daze. As the blonde's gaze slides away from the window, her brow draws together, mildly curious. "What makes you think that?"

Wordlessly, she shows Quinn her notebook and the sketches made within its pages. She'd first noticed the blonde's drawings in class earlier when Quinn was sitting with them. Every so often she'd glance her way and find her idly doodling away. Drawing the same thing.

Snowflakes.

Granted they varied in size and shape and intricacy, but still all snowflakes.

Quinn shrugs, thinking nothing of the drawings but indications of her own boredom. "They're pretty."

"They say no two snowflakes are alike." Brittany chimes in from beside Santana. "I think that's pretty cool. They're just like people."

Disdain washes over her the longer she stares at Quinn's artsty fartsy doodles that are just _so_ good it makes her stomach churn. In reality it has nothing to do with her being jealous of her talent or anything - she could care less about that - she just doesn't want to like the blonde and therefore is more than willing to jump on the 'hate train' at every given chance.

"Well I hate winter and everything that comes along with it." Without missing a beat, she flings the notebook across the table to its owner.

"Yeah." Quinn doesn't seem afflicted by Santana's carelessness, but her eyes are rather sad as she quietly agrees, "Sometimes I do too."

For a split second, Santana feels her heart ache.

She chooses to blame it on the artery clogging burrito she'd just indulged in and not on...whatever that had really been.

—

"Is it okay if I invite Quinn to eat lunch with us from now on?" Brittany asks abruptly as they're walking along the mainstreet of town one day.

Santana does a double take, unintentionally pulling a face in the process. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Isn't it enough that we work on this project after school?" she questions, her good mood slowly disinegrating at the prospect of having Quinn around even more. "Do we really need to hang out with her any more than that?"

Brittany turns to her and frowns. "Why don't you like her?"

"She's...I dunno...weird." she finishes lamely. Truthfully there isn't any particular reason _why_ she doesn't like the girl. She just doesn't.

Brittany stares at her pointedly, cause they both know that was a beyond crappy excuse, but doesn't harp on it. Instead she returns to answering Santana's inital question of _why?_ "It'll be good for Quinn. She's always by herself."

Santana rolls her eyes. Like she cared about _her_ well being. "Yeah and you ever think that _maybe_ there's a reason for it?" Walking out onto the street, they look both ways before crossing to the other side. "For all we know she could be a serial killer. It's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for."

Brittany gives her a sidelong glance. "Santana, she is _not_ a serial killer."

"That is subject for debate." She turns and regards the blonde with a confused frown. "What's with your sudden interest with hanging out with her anyways?"

"I know she likes to keep to herself but it's obvious that she's lonely." Brittany responds, briefly raising her shoulders. She looks back at Santana. "Don't you think?"

"I don't know." Lonesomeness wasn't exactly the vibe she got from the blonde, but there did seem to be a muted sadness to her.

"And what if she doesn't want to hang around with us anymore than she has to?" she counters, walking ahead to get the door. "You can't force it if she doesn't want to, you know."

"I know that." Brittany nods, okay with the possibility. But she's confident things will work out in her favor.

Santana can tell 'cause she's got that _look_, that oh-so-subtle smirk playing across her lips. "But it wouldn't be the first time I've gotten a lone wolf to join my flock."

—

That night Santana has herself some weird ass dreams.

Her mind is normally not the type to venture into dreamland, usually too exhausted from work and school to even bother, but this time was different. This time she dreamt, of a forest not unlike the one that bordered the town.

When she thinks back on it - yeah, this dream stayed with her long after she woke up (which she's pretty sure isn't supposed to happen) - the word _enchanting_ floats around in her head, like it's _the_ word to use to describe the place. Which makes no sense whatsoever.

She's never used the word 'enchanting' in her life. It's not a word that belongs in her day to day vocabulary and it sure as hell isn't one she'd use to describe anything, let alone a stupid forest of all things.

The dream itself didn't make much sense either. Full moons, angry mobs, red cloaks...

Being that it wasn't a particularly pleasant situation, she woke up drenched in her own sweat. It was disconcerting as fuck, but at the same time, familiar in a way. Like she'd experienced this dream before. Maybe she had. _Maybe_ it was an actual memory from one of her crazier weekend excursions...

Nah. Even at her drunkest she'd remember being _chased_ around the fucking woods like a fucking animal.

Santana shakes her head as she walks into her next class.

Her subconscious comes up with the weirdest shit.

—

Santana had _hoped_ Quinn wouldn't join them for lunch, as per Brittany's request, but alas today just wasn't her fucking day. She should have known better than to take the blonde's initial reluctance as a good sign. No sane human being has ever snubbed an invitation from Brittany, the sweetest, most irresistible girl on the planet.

It's like physically impossible.

While Brittany's in the restroom, trying to wash the paint off her hands, Santana's stuck with Quinn. The blonde doesn't say much, not that she ever does, which leaves Santana to occupy herself with her lunch. Not that she minds, she'd rather that than strike up conversation with Quinn (she'll play nice in front of Britts but she's not gonna go out of her way when she's not around).

As she tears into her sandwich, Santana silently wills herself not to roll her eyes at the blonde's annoyingly perfect posture. It's then that she realizes the blonde was _clearly_ staring at her, watching her.

"Can I help you with something?" she snaps, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "You always stare at people who are trying to eat?"

No wonder this girl has no friends.

Quinn shakes her head. "I wasn't staring at you." she says matter-factly, indifferent as ever to Santana's hostility. Much to the Latina's chagrin. "I was merely admiring your ring."

Quinn motions to her hand with the silver wolf's head ring on it. Santana had swiped it from the local pawn shop ages ago because she'd thought it was cool. She'd always had a thing for wolves. They were badass, like her.

"It seems fitting." Quinn quietly presses on. "Wolves represent endurance, perseverance, self-reliance, protection...loyalty."

Santana can't help but snort at that last one. "I thought dogs were the loyal ones." she mutters, crunching around the cool ranch dorito in her mouth.

"Canines in general I think."

"Right."

Silence drifts into the air. Quinn doesn't follow up with anything more and since Santana has no real inclination to keep the conversation going, she more than happily continues scarfing down her doritos.

But as she breaks down each chip, she can't help but wonder why Quinn would say that her wolf ring seemed 'fitting'. Blondie didn't know jack about her...

As that train of thought trails off to nowhere land, Santana's gaze wanders. Her face quickly screws up in confusion. "Why are you wearing those?"

Quinn snaps to attention at the sound of her voice. It takes her a second to register what she was going on about.

Her gloves.

"I don't know." the blonde says softly, staring curiously at her own hands. Like she hadn't realized until Santana pointed it out that she was still wearing them.

"I suppose with this weather I'm so used to keeping them on that I sometimes forget take them off."

Santana stares at her oddly, watching as she removes her gloves finger by finger. Quinn notices. "You think I'm weird."

"Yeah considering you're _inside_."

How can someone simply _forget_ that they have gloves on? They're on your hands for Christ's sake.

Santana just shakes her head. Whatever.

She casts a glance over at the doorway, hopeful that her best friend would come save her from this silent pause. But as the seconds pass and the blonde still nowhere in sight, Santana resigns to the fact that she's gonna be stuck alone with Quinn longer than anticipated.

"You know for a while I thought you were deaf."

She has to fill the void somehow. She's so used to being around Brittany, the never ending chatterbox (and she says that with love) that long periods of silence make her antsy. And since Quinn's the only one here... "Or just a mute. Since you never talk."

Quinn's brow furrows slightly at that seemingly random statement. "Like any normal person I speak when spoken to." she responds coolly. "I'd look like I was out of my mind if I started talking when no one was around to initiate conversation." She raises her brow, challenging Santana to declare something to the contrary.

She doesn't, because how can she when blondie's response was so fucking rational?, so they both return to their respective lunches, and resume their waiting for Brittany.

Barely a few seconds pass before Quinn, surprisingly, speaks up. "You know for a while I thought you were a streetwalker."

It's takes a second before that comment fully registers. "Excuse me?" Did Blondie just fucking say what she thinks she said?

"In my defense you do dress an awful lot like a hooker." Quinn's eyes fit over her rather inappropriate for winter outfit to emphasize her point.

Santana glances down at her ensemble: a form fitting red dress, a cropped black jacket, and matching boots. Sure it emphasized all her Latina loveliness and her hemline was a little on the short side, but she so did not resemble a fucking prostitute, thank you very much.

"You been talking to my abuela?"

It's the only reasonable explanation. The only one who ever badmouthed her style was her grams. She absolutely hated how she dressed, especially how the color red dominated her wardrobe.

But seriously, what the hell did she expect from someone whose middle name was _Diabla?_

Anyways. Santana stares back at the blonde in front of her, mildly impressed. "There's more bitch to you than you let on, Fabray."

A small teasing smirk plays across Quinn's lips.

It's the closest thing to a smile she's seen yet.

—

That night those _same_ weird ass dreams from the other night start back up again. Like a movie taken off pause, her subconscious was apparently eager to return to this 'enchanted forest' she'd dreamed up, even though all the scenarios so far weren't all that enjoyable.

So when she wakes up two hours before her alarm, all sweaty and shaken _again_, she swears she's going to invest in a bottle of sleeping pills.

—

The days that follow pretty much play out the same way, with Quinn joining them at lunch and after school to work on their project. Contrary to what she initially thought, it wasn't all that bad - having Quinn around.

Granted the blonde was still pretty reserved, (but that's just her, Santana figures) but with each passing day they were able to get her to talk a little more without her needing to be addressed first. It was progress, and Santana was just fine with how things were going, but she could tell it was not progress enough for Brittany.

_She'll come around on her own_, is what Santana finds herself having to repeatedly tell the blonde every time Quinn shies away from Brittany repeated attempts to turn them into absolute besties.

"I've decided something."

"What's that, B?" she asks distractedly. She's touching up her eyeliner here in the girl's bathroom, where her and Brittany have been taking their sweet time doing their business, neither one of them in a rush to get back to class. Who gave a flying rat's ass about the French Revolution anyways?

"I've decided what my next pet is going to be."

Brittany waits for her to tear her eyes away from her reflection before divulging her answer. "A chameleon." she enthuses, her eyes big and bright.

"A...chameleon? Like a lizard?"

Brittany nods, Santana's confusion doing nothing to dampen her excitement. "They're so cool. They can change colors to blend into their surroundings and everything."

"Uh...I don't know how well that's gonna go over with your folks, Britt." she begins delicately. "Or your cat. Lord Tubbington would probably try and eat it."

Brittany scoffs her disagreement. "He would not. They'd be best buds."

"That's what _you_ think." she says smilingly, turning back to her reflection. "But seriously. Why a chameleon, B? Why not another cat? Or a dog?"

Though Tubs would probably like that choice even less than a chameleon.

Brittany shrugs, swinging her legs out in front of her. She's perched on the sink next to Santana. "I think they're really cute. Can't you just imagine it chilling on my shoulder like all the time?" She gestures to her shoulder happily. "I could take him with me everywhere I go. I could bring him to school and he could help me out during tests by giving me the answers."

Santana laughs. "Oh so it's a talking chameleon you want?"

"All animals talk Santana, chameleons are no different." she states matter-of-factly.

Santana caps her eyeliner, nodding. "Right."

"It'd be perfect." Brittany continues. "Cause chameleons are coldblooded so it'd be okay with being in this weather. Of course I'd still want to knit it a little scarf and hat so it doesn't catch a cold..." She cocks her head to the side as something else occurs to her. "You know I think Quinn is coldblooded too."

Santana looks at her, bemused. "Yeah? What makes you think so?"

"In class today I accidentally brushed against her hand and it was like ice." Brittany explains. "It was weird because we were inside and the heat was on, yet her hand felt like she'd just shoved it in a pile of snow."

"So she's cold." Santana shrugs and zips up her makeup bag. "Matches her personality perfectly."

She says it as a joke, but Brittany doesn't take it as one and swats her arm for it. "Ow." She smiles through a wince. "Britt I was just kidding."

"That's not a nice thing to say, Santana." she admonishes.

Her smile fades apologetically, realizing the blonde was being serious. "Sorry, B." she says again.

Sighing, Brittany's gaze drops to her hands in her lap. "I wish she wasn't so sad all the time." she murmurs in a small forlorn voice, idly fiddling with the leg warmers she wears on her arms. "It makes me sad."

"I don't think she's sad, B." She tries to comfort, trying to ignore the pang in her heart at the sight of her bestie so suddenly down. "She's just likes to keep to herself. Some people are naturally like that. Just like some people are naturally bright and bubbly and happy like you."

"It's just..." Brittany blows out a breath and leans back against the wall. "I don't know. It's like there's something haunting her and she has like this heaviness weighing her down. I just want to get rid of whatever it is that's bothering her and make her smile."

"You do make her smile, Brittany." she insists.

Brittany shakes her head. "I mean like _really_ smile. The ones she gives us never quite reach her eyes. They're forced."

Santana purses her lips before answering. "That may be but you've got to admit that she's beginning to come around. Compared to that first day with us."

"There are moments...I guess." she shrugs. "When the real Quinn pokes through."

Santana stares, bemused. "Real Quinn?"

Brittany nods. "Everytime I look at her, I don't know, somewhere deep down in my brain or my gut, or where ever it is, something is telling me that this isn't the girl I know. Like this isn't how Quinn Fabray is supposed to be."

Brittany continues before Santana can respond. "Which I know is crazy cause I know I don't really know her. But at the same time I feel like I do, I just can't remember." Brittany shakes her head, her lips drawing a pout. "See? This is what I was talking about the other day. Forgetting important stuff and feeling like I'm missing something. You know sometimes I even forget my middle name." She turns to Santana, suddenly fearful. "San, you don't think I have old timer's do you?"

"It's Alzheimer's, B." she gently corrects, smiling. "And no I don't think you have it. You're way too young and awesome."

That seems to appease Brittany enough. A small blush creeps onto her face at the compliment. "Thanks." She hops off the sink as Santana gathers her things. Once she's back on her feet, Santana drapes an arm across her shoulders. "You're awesome too, San." she beams.

Santana scoffs. "Psh. B, you know I'm _way_ awesomer." she says, her smile smug.

"Awesomer isn't a word." Brittany teases. "The correct term is _more awesome_."

To which Santana grins. "And she's smart too."

Brittany links their arms together and nods. "Damn straight." she smirks.

—

Santana hates how she can see her breath right in front of her face every time she exhales. It's super annoying. Plus she looks like a damn bull out here. All she needed was the ridiculous nose ring and she was set.

Frustrated, she tightens her grip on her cup of her abuela's famous _chocolate caliente_, silently wishing she was somewhere, anywhere but here.

"C'mon, Santana!" Brittany beckons for the millionth time, calling out to her from the frozen over pond she was happily skating on.

Santana just shakes her head in response.

Snow. Ice. Whatever form it was in, she wanted no part of. And no way in hell was she gonna put those death traps people called 'skates' on her feet and go cavorting on frozen water that, for all they knew, wasn't all that frozen.

_Fuck that_. She'll stay right where she is, thank you very much.

Brittany skates past her and says to her in warning, "I will give you five minutes to come to your senses before I drag you out here myself, Santana!"

Santana rolls her eyes and takes another sip of her scalding hot cocoa. As the burning liquid rushes down her throat and sends another burst of warmth to her insides, her gaze settles on the _other_ blonde out on the ice.

It'd taken a little persuasion (_okay, a lot_) but Brittany eventually succeeded in getting Quinn to join her. It was a feat Brittany was so proud and excited by that, in her haste to get to the ice, she'd nearly yanked poor Quinn's arm out her socket.

Santana ducks her head, chuckling to herself at the memory. But when the breeze picks up, her smile fades and a scowl promptly replaces it as she's forced to scoot her thighs closer together in attempt to retain as much warmth as she can.

God damn this fucking weather.

Staring out ahead, Santana's left with no other option but to continue to watch the two blondes skate around. They're the only ones out here and while she could choose to occupy herself with a round of Angry Birds, there's no way in hell she's taking her hands off her only heat source to reach into her jacket pocket and get her phone. No way.

So she sits and stares, silently hoping one of them (Quinn) falls on her ass so she can get her chuckles on. But that doesn't look like there's any chance of that happening. Quinn was like... in her element. She seemed very much at peace out there on the ice. Lost in her own little world, her eyes closed in contentment as she glided around with as much elegance as a seasoned professional.

And the way she executed graceful little spins here and there, adding little flicks of her wrists to her moves like she was weaving some kind of invisible magic along the way, made things all the more impressive. She didn't even look like she was conscious of what she was doing, just going along with whatever her body felt was natural.

Santana would never admit it out loud, but the girl was kind of captivating to watch.

"You look miserable."

Startled, her body involuntarily tenses, not expecting the girl she'd been admiring to be suddenly standing right in front of her. She could have sworn Quinn was just over there on the other side of the pond...

"I'm outside in below freezing temperatures, of course I look miserable." she snaps, annoyed that Quinn had actually managed to catch her off guard.

"You'd be a lot less colder if you were doing something other than just sitting there like a bump on a log."

"I'm fine."

Quinn sighs, evidently able to see right through that lie. "Come on." Santana just stares when the girl extends a gloved hand to her. "Join us."

Hadn't seen that coming, she can honestly say. Quinn doesn't do this kind of stuff. Brittany does.

Huh. Maybe she was rubbing off on her fellow blonde.

Santana isn't quite sure how she feels about that.

"C'mon, Santana." Brittany skates over to them and stops next to Quinn. "We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way."

Santana quirks her brow. "Excuse me?"

Brittany chuckles, that mischievous grin of hers - the one that always spells trouble for Santana - firmly in place. "You heard me."

Next thing she knows has those blades of death strapped securely to her feet and two blondes, one on either side of her, carefully guiding her to the edge of the ice against her will.

Fucking blondes, man.

—

"If I die, I am so gonna haunt you two in the afterlife. Mark my words."

She feels like the biggest idiot in the world out here.

Like a toddler, Santana was locked in a squatted position, her hands held out, body bracing itself for the inevitable fall. And while Quinn was gently coaxing her forward, skating backwards to serve as the buffer should she lose her balance, Brittany was skating circles around her. Literally.

"You are not going to die, Santana." Quinn sighs.

Part of her mind is still reeling that Quinn was actually partaking in this cruel, unusual punishment. Cause sure she hung out with them, but usually kept herself at a distance. Helping Santana to properly ice skate just didn't seem like something she'd ever do.

"Quit being such a baby, San." Brittany teases, coming up behind her and touching her back. "You're so dramatic."

A very un-Santana like shriek escapes her then, much to her mortification. Thankfully Quinn's still holding her hands and leading her forward while Brittany begins pushing her from behind.

This whole thing is like a scene right out of Bambi. You know the one where Thumper's trying to teach him how to slide on the ice? Only in this case she has two blonde bunnies pushing her around and this scenario isn't so much cute as it is utterly pathetic.

"Okay. Okay." She's had just about enough of this. "Don't you guys think we should quit while we're ahead?"

She hasn't fallen yet, but the longer she stays out on this ice, the more she feels like she's pushing her luck.

So when she receives nothing but stifled laughter in response, she groans pitifully. "_C'mon_. Don't make me beg." Much as she hates it, there's no getting out of this without their help.

Fortunately for her, Quinn is much more merciful than Brittany's being at the moment. With sympathetic eyes, Quinn carefully guides them to the edge of the ice.

"You're never gonna learn if you never try this on your own, San." Brittany reminds, a little disappointed they were bringing it in already. But she isn't too upset - how can she be when she actually got Quinn to help her tag team Santana?

"Who needs to know how to ice skate anyways? I've done just fine all these years without it and sure as hell don't..."

Her words trail off as the expected occurs. Well, it's actually partly unexpected considering it's Brittany's skate that catches on the ice and not hers. Either way, like Santana predicted, things take a turn for the worst before her feet are able to find solid ground.

A domino effect ensues as Brittany stumbles into the unstable Santana, the sudden impact of which sends the Latina lurching forward into the arms of the unuspecting Quinn. With a collective shriek and subsequent groan, the three of them crash land into a disorganized heap, their bodies piled up on top of each other.

"Fucking ice." Santana growls, sandwiched against her will in between the two conspiratorial blondes. "No me gusta."

When Brittany rolls off her with a slight 'oomph', Santana promptly pushes away from Quinn so that she lands in between the two of them. All three of them are lying on their backs now.

That's when the laughter kicks in.

Brittany starts giggling first, because falling on your ass is apparently _so damn funny_, and Quinn follows suit shortly thereafter.

Though she doesn't find the situation all that ha-ha funny, the infectious laughter she finds herself surrounded by is impossible not to smile at. Her shoulders begin to shake with mild amusement, but it isn't until an uncharacteristic snort escapes the ever composed blonde on her left that Santana loses all restraint.

Uninhibited laughter rips through her, the kind that makes her ribs ache and her eyes flood with tears.

She's pretty sure it's the hardest she's ever laughed. And the first time she's seen Quinn really, truly, smile.

—

"I'm freezing my nuts off out here."

Her jaw clenched, Santana shoves her gloved hands deeper in her jacket pockets. She does her best to repress her body's natural inclination to shiver.

"I didn't realize you had nuts to freeze off, Santana."

She's barely able to resist rolling her eyes. "It's a figure of speech, bitch."

She redirects her glare at blonde standing next to her. The one who didn't seem to be affected in the slightest by this weather, despite the fact that she was wearing a relatively thin jacket.

"How the fuck are you not freezing too?" she sneers, disgruntled by the fact.

Quinn stares out into the distance and shrugs. "The cold has never bothered me."

_Of course it doesn't._

Santana stamps her feet together, cold, cranky, and restless. She really wished Brittany would hurry up.

After they finished working on their project for the day, Brittany had dragged her and Quinn to the park to 'play' in the snow. But like hell _that_ was gonna happen. Santana doesn't 'play' in snow. Which is why she'd paid off those snotnosed ginger-headed demon spawns of Satan Giardi triplets to keep her entertained. (Honestly, it didn't take much persuasion since they loved Brittany, but those little shits are con artists who are always looking to make a buck).

Santana glances around the park. Where the fuck are those kids' mom to drag them home? Isn't it like nap time or some thing?

After grinding her teeth, Santana resigns to the fact that she's gonna have to play the role of the killjoy parent and ruin Brittany's fun if she's going to get out of this fucking cold anytime soon.

"You know if you would just dress in appropriate winter attire, you wouldn't be so cold all the time."

Santana just narrows her eyes at Quinn.

Just because winter was being a real bitch didn't mean she was suddenly gonna cave in and be its little bitchlet like everyone else and suddenly start wearing parkas and shit.

Santana Lopez had too much pride for that god damnit. Besides, _she's fine_. The weather's not that bad.

Quinn merely gives her that knowing sidelong look. Santana looks away. The subject is dropped after that.

As Santana stares out ahead, she huffs with the realization that she doesn't have the heart to pull Brittany away from her fun. Especially when she looks so damn adorable rolling around in the snow with those 'cute when they wanted to be' copper-headed hoodlums.

God damn. She really is pathetic when it comes to that girl.

Silently shaking her head, Santana's gaze wanders back to Quinn. (Because really she's got nothing else to look at). The blonde's eyes are blank and sad all at the same time. It's a look Santana's become accustomed to seeing whenever Quinn was left with her own thoughts.

She'll admit the sight has held her curiosity before but never enough for her to look into it. However, now the sight really bothers her for some reason and before she knows what she's doing, her cranky self is asking, "Okay what's you deal?"

It's something she's actually been wondering about for a while now. It's almost been a week since Quinn started hanging out with her and Britts and while they talk to each other, they don't _really_ talk. Not about personal matters anyways.

She knows basically everything there is to know about Brittany but relatively nothing about Quinn and that doesn't sit well with her. She doesn't like not knowing about people. Not knowing whether or not they can be trusted. And Quinn seems like one of those girls you have to watch out for. The kind that can just as easily be your friend or your enemy, or both, at any given time.

"My deal?"

"Yeah. This quiet thing you've got going on, it seems wrong on you." She much preferred the Quinn that wasn't so uptight - the relaxed, almost carefree, one that'd made a surprise appearance after they'd gone ice-skating and fallen on their asses. "Like it's not really you."

She hadn't realized until she said those words out loud at now how true they felt. Now she's starting to get a better understanding of what Brittany had meant the other day.

Quinn's back straightens, her defenses obviously now up. "No offense Santana but you don't know me."

"True, but I'm clever enough to know when something isn't right." She steps in front of the blonde in attempt to force eye contact. "So if this is some kind of an act you're pulling to try in attempt to dethrone me as HBIC-"

Quinn interjects before she can finish. "You're the one brought me into this equation. I didn't ask to be in it." she scoffs, because really the very idea of this being about _popularity_ is ludicrous.

And deep down somewhere Santana knows that but she wouldn't be a Lopez if she wasn't always watching out for herself. Because of this she's naturally suspicious of all people and doesn't trust easily. Or at all. Brittany's been the one exception. And while there were moments this past week where she thought Quinn might be too, Santana can't ignore her gut instincts urging her to be careful around this girl.

"And for the record Brittany asked you to join our group, not me." She's quick to correct.

And then with no other aim than to provoke, adds, "She always did love a good charity case."

To her dismay Quinn doesn't lash out as she'd hoped. It would've been nice to see the girl display some kind of human emotion. She's so fucking closed off; sometimes Santana wonders if she slapped the bitch would she even react?

"Is that what this is all about?" Quinn questions, not sounding hurt or angered by it. "She feels sorry for me so that's why she wants me around?"

Santana shrugs. "How the hell am I supposed to know?"

Quinn stares at her, disbelieving. "She's _your_ best friend."

She sighs, exasperated. "Look all I know is that she thinks your lonely and sad and shit and just wants to make you happy."

Suddenly she wants out of this conversation. That whole thing about wanting to learn more about Quinn? Yeah she's over that now.

"Being alone and loneliness are two completely different things."

Santana doesn't say anything. She knows that to be very true.

"I'm just not comfortable being around other people, therefore I prefer to keep to myself."

They have that in common. People annoy the fuck out of her. They're just so goddamn stupid.

"So why keep hanging out with me and Brittany?" she asks.

Quinn glances back at her, brow raised. "Do I really need to answer that? You of all people should know that refusing any request that comes out of Brittany's mouth is damn near impossible to do. And as hard as it might be for you to believe, I've actually grown to enjoy your company. My presence here has nothing to do with your paranoid beliefs that I'm out to get you in some way. If I cared about being popular or being the HBIC I would have done something about ages ago."

Now that she believes.

"And the same goes for friends." Quinn continues. "If I had truly wanted them, I would have gone out and made some of my own volition." She pauses for a long moment. "Though I will admit that Brittany bringing us together has turned out to be, I don't know, a blessing in disguise."

Santana interrupts with another derisive snort as she looks away. "I don't know about blessing."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Look if you don't want me around just say so and I won't burden you with my presence any longer."

Santana looks back at her and sighs. "I don't-"

"Our project is over anyways." She turns her head dismissively. "So there's no reason for us to continue this."

Santana shakes her head at her. "You really want that?" she questions disbelievingly. "To go back to being a total loner?"

Quinn brushes her, and the question, off. "It doesn't matter." She looks everywhere but at Santana, refusing to make eye contact. "It's for the best anyways."

A deep set frown pulls across her face. "What's that supposed to mean? Best for who?"

Quinn's already set to walk away, but Santana grabs onto her arm at the last second. "Slow your roll, blondie."

Quinn pulls out of her grasp. "Forget it, Santana."

Santana shakes her head and moves around in front of the blonde, preventing her from going anywhere. "If we're gonna be legit besties one day, you're gonna have to learn to open up, Fabray. Friends talk to each other."

Quinn stares at her, brow raised. "Oh so you want to be friends now? Santana, I get you're doing this for Brittany's sake but I don't need this so just stop. You clearly don't want me around, you don't trust me, and that's just fine with me. I really don't care what you think of me."

The blonde tries to walk away again and once more Santana prevents her from doing so.

"Newsflash whether you like it or not you're obligated to continue hanging out with us from now on. Project or no project." At Quinn's quirked brow, she nods. "Yeah. Brittany's found a new bestie in you and there's no way in hell she's gonna just let you go back to being a sad, hot loner." She's going to ignore the fact that she just admitted to thinking Quinn is hot.

"And fyi I actually do like hanging out with you. Sure I'd probably like you more if you let us get to know you better, but whatever. From what you've let us see of you you're actually an alright bitch. But you're right, I don't trust you. But you know what? I don't trust anybody. Except Britts and my abuela. That doesn't mean I don't want you around. If I _really_ didn't want you around, regardless of what Brittany wanted, I would have removed you from the equation like that." Santana snaps her fingers to emphasize her point. "I'm ruthless like that."

Quinn just shakes her head. Santana sighs. "Look I don't want us to stop being," she gestures between them, "Whatever this is anymore than you do. There I admit it. You happy? Can we move past this now? I'm tired of talking about this."

All she gets is silence. Then, something in the air shifts along with the entirety of Quinn's persona. "I feel like I've hurt people before." she admits quietly, catching Santana off guard. "For as long as I can remember, I've always carried around this feeling like I have to be careful around others."

Her insides turn uneasily at the pain she sees reflected in Quinn's eyes.

How is it that she has the same effect on her that Brittany does? It has to be a blonde thing. Just has to.

"That's why I prefer to keep my distance. You can't hurt any one if you're alone."

Santana hesitates, processing this new revelation, eventually asking, "When you say hurt, do you mean emotionally or like...physically?"

Quinn doesn't get the chance to elaborate. The Giardi boys had evidently left for home and Brittany grew tired of playing by herself so she calls out to them in that moment. Or she calls out to _Quinn_, she should say.

"Hey Quinn do you wanna build a snowman?"

An innocent question that evoked the strangest of expressions on Quinn's face. Like something resonated within her in that moment.

Santana doesn't know what to make of it. She frowns unsurely. "Hey you okay?" she asks, legitimately concerned.

Quinn breaks from her daze and nods faintly. "Yeah, fine." She shakes her head, dropping her gaze, closing her eyes briefly. "I just...I don't know." She lifts her gaze and pushes down whatever she'd felt, whatever had caused that reaction.

In an instant, it's as if nothing had happened. Quinn was back to her composed self. "I'll be right there!" she calls to Brittany who'd still been waiting on a response.

Santana can't help but let her gaze linger quizzically on the blonde. What the hell was that? What just happened?

The only reason she doesn't ask is because quite frankly, she doesn't think Quinn even knows.

—

"That one looks like a breadstick."

Santana extends her arm to the sky and traces the outline with her hand.

Brittany just laughs. "Santana."

"What? It does." She drops her hand and cocks her head to the side. "Or a giant dong." she later adds.

They'd finished their snowman awhile ago and now the three of them were laying side by side (by side) on a heap of snow, staring up at the dark winter sky, trying to point out as many constellations as they could.

Brittany was a master at it, knowing all of them by heart. She loved astronomy, loved the stars and the planets and everything there was to know about them. So, of course, Santana's spent many a night stargazing with her best friend. Though she could never see the constellations Brittany pointed out to her. All she saw was stars. Lots and lots of stars. Occasionally she'd see them form shapes, like now, but usually she'd just take Britt's word for it when she'd point something out to her.

Quinn knew almost as many constellations as Brittany did, but wasn't able to spot them as easily in the sky as Brittany was, who'd been tracking stars her entire life.

"It's so beautiful, isn't it?" Brittany sighs dreamily, staring up at the stars in awe. "Couldn't you just lay here all night and watch the sky?"

"If we did Santana would freeze her nuts off for sure." Quinn teases from the other side of Brittany.

"Shove it, Fabray." Santana glares, though on the inside she's pleasantly relieved Quinn was comfortable enough to start teasing her again.

"We should probably get going." Quinn sighs, sitting upright. She looks around; they're the only ones out here. "It is getting pretty late."

Not really but the days are shorter in winter.

"Yeah, I guess so." Brittany grudgingly does the same.

"Thank God." Santana eagerly gets to feet. "I was a minute away from straight up blacking out." She's only half-joking. They've been out here for so long that she was past being cold and was just numb now.

While Quinn and Brittany start down the hill, Santana hurries across the snow and hijacks her favorite red scarf from their adorably deformed snowman.

"Later Olaf."

—

The three of them walk together until they reach the corner of Birch street (or _Bitch_ street, as Santana often refers to it). Quinn's house is going left, Brittany's house is going right. Santana's place is also going right, but when they get ready to part ways, Brittany stops her and jabs her with her elbow.

Santana hisses under her breath, touching her ribcage. "What was that for?"

Brittany stares at her with wide eyes and subtly jerks her head to the side. "Walk her home." she whispers.

"What? Hell no." She's not gonna go out of her way just to walk _Quinn_ home.

Brittany's gaze is unyielding. "Santana."

"Brittany." she returns in the same tone.

"You'd walk me home." Brittany points out, brow raised.

Santana scoffs. "Yeah, because we live in the _same_ direction."

Brittany shoots her a knowing look. They both know that while they live in the same general direction, her house is out of Santana's way, kind of, and that doesn't stop her from walking Brittany home.

But still...

"Santana," Brittany whines, glancing back and seeing Quinn standing a few feet away, looking like she was going to leave. "Be a good friend."

"No. _You_ walk her home."

Brittany sighs. "I would but I can't. I'm already going to be in enough trouble as it is for coming home so late without calling first." She takes another look at her Mickey Mouse watch and shakes her head.

"And like I'm not?"

"Just do it, Santana." Brittany huffs. "She could get mugged or kidnapped if she doesn't have a buddy with her."

"So could you," she argues, "So you shouldn't be walking home alone either."

Brittany rolls her eyes, unconvinced. "I'm perfectly capable of defending myself."

Santana snorts. "Not without a frying pan you're not."

Brittany playfully glares at her for that comment. "Whatever. Anyways this is Storybrooke, like the safest town on earth. Nothing ever happens here."

"Exactly. Which is why she doesn't need someone to walk her home. She's a big girl."

Brittany stares at her pleadingly, eyes all big and sad, her lips drawn together in a pout. "Santana."

She throws her head back in a silent groan. Brittany knows she can't say no to that face. "Ugh. Fine. I'll walk her home. Jesus." She shakes her head, then points at the blonde, "You so owe me for this."

Brittany rolls her eyes again. "Don't act like it's such a chore, Santana." She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively and smirks. "You know you like her."

Santana crinkles her nose. "I do not."

Brittany shakes her head, smilingly. "Don't act like you don't have a thing for blondes, Santana." Brittany pinches her nose as she skips past her. "Cause we both know that you do!"

"Do not!" Santana calls after her. As Brittany bounds into the unsuspecting Quinn's arms for a goodbye hug, Santana just shakes her head.

It's so not adorable, is what she tells herself.

"Bye Quinn!" Her best friend further surprises their new friend, by kissing Quinn on the cheek before dashing off. Brittany never was one to shy away from showing affection, especially to those she liked.

When it's just the two of them, Quinn looks at her expectantly. Her cheeks are still a little flushed from Brittany's little display. "You're going my way?"

Santana shoves her hands in her pockets and sighs, nodding. "Looks that way."

—

"How long have you lived in Storybrooke?"

The question is abrupt, out of the blue. Her and Quinn have been walking in relative silence, and Santana had been enjoying it, up until blondie decided to change things.

Santana shrugs. "I don't know. For as long as I can remember." She turns and stares at her questionably. Quinn doesn't look too satisfied with her response. "Why?"

"Just wondering."

Silence.

_Okay_. Santana keeps walking, unsure of whether or not to let the subject drop, but Quinn speaks up again before she can think too much on it.

"_For as long as I can remember_." she echoes. "That's the common phrase people use when you ask them about their lives in Storybrooke. 'How long have you worked here?' For as long as I can remember. 'How long have you lived here?' For as long as I can remember. And yet no one really seems able to." Quinn turns and looks at her. "Have you ever noticed that?"

Santana can't say that she has, at least not before now. She tells her as much.

Sighing, Quinn lifts her gaze, her eyes watching the clouds slowly roll in, a sign of more snowfall to come. "There are a lot of things about my past I can't remember." she confesses quietly.

"Well...were you ever injured, like in a car accident or something? That could've affected your memory."

"No." Quinn huffs, frustrated, her breath showing in the air. "I wish. Then at least I'd have an explanation for this...haze."

She's starting to sound like Brittany.

"I don't remember my parents." Santana offers, the words spilling out before her brain could properly filter out a less telling response. "My abuela says my mom died when I was little and that my dad took off shortly after, but I have no memory of that whatsoever. Grams says it's just because I was really young when it happened, but I don't know...for as long as I can remember it's always just been me and my grams."

She doesn't know why she's telling her this. She's only open with Brittany.

And shit, blondie's right. There's that saying again. _For as long as I can remember._

"My parents aren't in the picture either. They died in a boating accident. Got caught up in a storm and capsized."

Santana grimaces. "Sorry." Another pause. She feels the inclination to at least try and lift the mood. "So do you live with your grams too?" She snorts at the very idea.

"No." Quinn shakes her head. "I don't live with anyone."

Santana raises her brow. "You live by yourself?"

Quinn just nods.

That was cool, there were days where Santana would give anything to get away from her grams and live on her own, but at the same time a little sad. She needed her alone time for sure but she couldn't imagine it being a permanent thing.

"I had a sister. But I..." Quinn trails off, unsure of how to finish that thought.

"What happened to her?" she gently probes.

Quinn shakes her head, at a loss. "I don't know...an accident. I can't remember the details." She releases a bitter scoff as she turns back to Santana. "Can you believe it? I don't even know how I lost my own sister."

"Maybe it's a repressed memory." she shrugs. "Like your subconscious is blocking it out or something." That's what she'd come to terms with regarding her own vague memories of her parents.

Quinn turns away again. It doesn't go unnoticed by Santana that her eyes were now glassy, burning with unshed emotion. "Must have been pretty traumatic then. Otherwise I'd be able to remember it, wouldn't I?"

Santana kicks a rock out of her path. "Yeah, maybe."

Quinn sniffles, trying to compose herself as quickly as she can. "You must think I'm very strange."

Santana shakes her head. "Not any stranger than the rest of this town. Actually," She turns and stares at the blonde, smiling approvingly.

"You're alright, Fabray."

A sad smile graces Quinn's features as she disagrees, "No, not really." Which makes Santana's own smile falter.

"But in time I think I will be." she adds, catching sight of her frown.

Santana just nods and clears her throat. She stares off to the side, needing a second. What is it about blondes that reduce her to a puddle of mush? Seriously. Another second and she might've just pulled that girl in for a much needed hug.

Gross.

"Yeah well," Realizing they had stopped in front of what Santana assumes is Quinn's apartment building, she turns to leave.

"See you later, Barbie." She waves over her shoulder.

"Goodnight, Satan."

Santana stops, then slowly turns around. Did she hear right?

A hint of a smile plays across Quinn's lips. "Don't tell me that's the first time you've ever been called that."

"No." Santana scoffs. "But you are the only one dumb enough to call me that to my face." Well, _back_, technically.

Quinn raises that perfectly arched brow of hers. "Should I be worried then?"

Santana does the same. "If you value your life, yes."

Quinn is unperturbed. Shaking her head, she turns back around. "I'll see you Monday, Santana."

The quirk of the blonde's lips does not go unnoticed by her. _Bitch_. Getting an idea, Santana smiles deviously to herself as she picks up a handful of snow from the ground and pats it into a ball.

When it's ready, she whips the snowball at Quinn's head with striking precision. Santana cackles at the sight and smiles triumphantly. Quinn doesn't say anything, but the expression on her face says it all for her.

Santana slowly begins backing away out of throwing range should blondie try and retaliate. Which she looks like she has every intention of doing.

"You fucking pelt me with that snow Fabray and I will end you." she warns, holding up a stern finger.

Quinn walks forward, patting a perfect snowball together in her gloved hands. "Threaten me all you want Santana." she shrugs, smirking. "You don't intimidate me. You're all bark and no bite."

"Whatever." she scoffs. "You're all latte and no foam."

Quinn stops, her brow adorably furrowed. "What?"

Yeah, she doesn't even know what the means either. But she's not gonna fess up to it.

Grabbing another handful of snow, she launches it at Quinn before up and bolting around the corner. "Later."

She doesn't expect Quinn to chase after her - that's more Brittany's deal - but the blonde actually does and more than that, successfully pelts her with a snowball.

"Holy motherfucking goddamn son of a..." Gasping, Santana spins around, trying in vain to get the already melting ice from out underneath her clothes. "Jesus Christ. Are you trying to give me pneumonia? Fuck, I could get hypothermia from this shit and die!"

"You're very dramatic." Quinn comments, bemused. "And need I remind you that you are the one who started all this?"

Santana frowns unhappily. "Do that again and I'll bury your bleach blonde head in the snow." she warns. "Make you look like an ostrich."

Quinn walks right up to her and before Santana knows what hits her, blondie's blowing a handful of snow in her face like it was confetti.

As Santana brushes the flurries out of her face, Quinn tilts her head to the side. "You were saying?"

She pierces a withering glare at that cheeky blonde. "Oh it's on like donkey kong."

The words no sooner leave her lips then Quinn sprints in the opposite direction. Santana wastes no time in chasing after her.

There were no more words after that, save for a few insults and empty threats on Santana's part. Just rowdy giggles filling the desolate streets as they chased each other through town, trying to pelt each other with as much snow as possible.

It isn't before long that Santana has snow melting in places she'd rather didn't and a scratchy throat from the cold. She'd be a lot more pissed if she wasn't enjoying herself so much.

Slowing her pace, Santana grudgingly holds her hands up in surrender. She's out of breath and without ammunition. "Okay, okay. You win." The blonde was like a little snowball ninja and she'd sorely underestimated her.

The top of Quinn's head slowly emerges out from her current hiding spot behind the mailbox. Her piercing eyes narrow warily, unsure if this was some kind of a ploy to get her guard down.

"Truce?" She holds her hands up a little higher to show her sincerity and that she didn't anything hidden behind her back or anything.

While Quinn makes her way over to her, Santana tugs her red scarf loose. She'll probably regret it later when she's nursing a sore throat but right now she's too hot to care. "You wanna go bug Brittany?" she asks the blonde, still breathless.

She knows they'd just said their goodbyes for the night a little while ago, but - as much fun as she was having here with Quinn - she was missing her other blonde too.

Quinn brushes the snow off her shoulders and frowns. "Won't her parents mind us dropping by unannounced at this hour?"

"Nah." Santana waves it off dismissively, leading them in the right direction. "Britt's parents are cool."

—

"I thought you said her parents were cool." Quinn whispers, crouched down behind her as they maneuver stealth-mode like across Brittany's backyard.

"They are." Santana insists. "Well, usually." she amends. "But lately Britt's been lagging on her schoolwork and they kind of think _I_ have something to do with it, so they try to limit just how much time we spend together." She rolls her eyes briefly.

"Then why are we here?"

"Because we don't have school tomorrow and if I go home now my abuela's just gonna hassle me into closing up the restaurant or doing something that isn't sitting on the couch and watching tv." Santana looks back at her and snorts. "Don't tell me you suddenly have pressing engagements to attend to, your highness?"

"No." Quinn glares. "I just don't want to get Brittany in trouble. And for all we know she doesn't even want company right now. It's impolite to just show up without a proper invitation, you know."

Santana rolls her eyes and whips out her cell phone, hitting the first number on her speed dial.

"Hello?"

"Hey, B." Santana lifts her gaze to the house in front of them. "Mind if me and Q stop by to hang out?"

"What?" Brittany's enthusiasm overtakes her surprise. "Of course not!"

Santana gives Quinn one of those 'I told you so' sidelong glances before reverting her attention forward. "Cool beans. We're in your backyard right now so open up your window and let us in girlie."

"I thought I heard something." Brittany chuckles, coming to the window and lifting it open. "Figured it was just the gnomes talking loudly again." She waves down at them.

Santana pockets her cell phone and hurries over to the side of the house where she knows Brittany's dad's ladder to be. "Make yourself useful, Q." she demands, prompting the girl to action.

Quinn reluctantly helps her with the ladder. "And why can't we just sneak in through the back door?"

"Wanky." Santana snickers.

"Where's the fun in that?" Brittany questions, hearing the question and leaning out her window. She beckons them forward. "Hurry up you two. It's freezing reindeer balls out here."

Santana more than willingly scampers up the ladder, relishing in the heat Brittany's bedroom offers. "Oh fuck yes." she sighs, walking deeper into her room and plopping herself down on the queen-sized bed, much to the dismay of Lord Tubbington who grudgingly scatters from his place.

"Sorry about the mess." Brittany says of her room, helping Quinn inside.

"No she's not." Santana says, still happily lying on her back.

"Were you guys outside long? Your noses are all red." Brittany inquires, closing her window.

Santana and Quinn share a knowing look. "Kind of." Santana answers vaguely, now propped up by her elbows.

"Well I'm gonna go sneak us some cookies and hot chocolate." Brittany declares now that she has company.

"If it's that instant crap from those god awful packets then I don't want any." Santana says. She likes the real stuff, thank you very much.

"You say that now..." Brittany shakes her head, rolling her eyes playfully. "Be right back."

Santana kicks off her boots and shimmies up Brittany's bed to get comfortable. As she props herself up with pillows, she notices Quinn lingering uncomfortably by the window. "What are you waiting for? Take off your jacket and siéntate."

"I don't understand what we're doing here."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Jesus Fabray we're here to hang out. We're gonna gorge on junk food and watch crappy tv and if we're lucky," Turning onto her side, she props her head up with her hand and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. "Brittany will draw us like one of her french girls."

Her smirk falters at Quinn's blank expression. "I take it that means you've never seen Titanic." She rolls her eyes again and moves back to her previous spot. "Figures. There is so much we need to educate you on it's exhausting."

"You make me sound so uncultured." Quinn frowns. "I'll have you know I am well versed in a variety of subjects. Languages, history, art, political science..."

"Yawn." Santana rolls onto her other side, so that her back faced Quinn. "Wake me when Britt comes back with the grub."

Brittany walks back in shortly thereafter, carefully carrying along three mugs of hot chocolate - marshmallows included - and a ziploc bag of snickerdoodle cookies.

After distributing the mugs of hot chocolate, Brittany joins Santana on her bed. Her brow furrows when she realizes Quinn was still standing by her desk.

"C'mon, Quinn." Brittany scoots over and pats the empty space between her and Santana. "We don't bite."

"Not unless you want us to." Santana gleams wolfishly, biting down playfully on her cookie.

Quinn looks tempted, but ultimately declines, choosing instead to sit at Brittany's desk. The carefree Quinn that had chased Santana out in the town square had apparently gone back into hiding.

They settle on One Tree Hill, a favorite of Brittany's, to watch. It's just like normal. Her and Brittany sitting on her bed, watching tv, drinking hot chocolate. Only now they've got Quinn.

Santana can tell Brittany wants desperately to say something, to try and convince Quinn to join them on the bed, by the way her gaze flickers from the television. Usually nothing can tear her eyes away from her OTH but not today.

She wants to remind her that she shouldn't try to push things but Quinn's right there and even if she whispered in Brittany's ear, the other blonde might still hear them.

Once One Tree Hill's over, Santana takes over the controls, while Brittany gets up in favor of painting. She walks over to her makeshift studio in the corner where an easel is set up. As she ties her apron around her waist, she notices that Quinn is sitting directly in her line of view.

_Light bulb_.

"Hey, Quinn." Brittany quickly switches out her current canvas for a new one, suddenly giddy with her new idea. "Is it alright if I paint you?"

Santana turns her head at that request, brow raised. Naturally she looks over at Quinn for her reaction. "Um...sure. Okay." She can tell Quinn's uncomfortable with the idea but she doesn't have the heart to reject Brittany.

Suddenly anxious, Quinn stands. She sets down her mug and fiddles with her hands, unsure of what to do with herself. "Do you need me to stand or...?"

Brittany shakes her head. "No, just sit back down and keep doing what you were doing before, you know watching tv and whatnot. Don't mind me. You just look really pretty with the way the light's hitting you now."

Brittany comes around and tilts her head to the side, carefully regarding Quinn.

Quinn shifts self-consciously under the taller blonde's gaze. "What?"

"Do you ever braid your hair?" Brittany wonders.

Quinn shakes her head, confused. "Not really. No."

Brittany whips around, her eyes alight. "San, do you think you could braid Quinn's hair for her? I've got this idea for her portrait and she'd look just phenomenal with her hair braided."

Santana smiles pityingly at Quinn, who looks uncomfortable enough as it is simply from suddenly being the subject of Brittany's newest piece. "Sure, B."

Brittany beams in triumph and twirls back around to face Quinn. "Is that okay with you?" she asks, giving the blonde that hopeful 'please say yes' smile.

Quinn releases another heavy sigh before giving Brittany a small consenting nod.

Brittany squeals her excitement. "Don't worry, Santana's really good at braiding hair." she assures.

"Psh." Santana pushes herself off the bed and cracks her knuckles. "I'm a master at it, Britt."

It doesn't take long for her to do a side braid on Quinn, as per Brittany's request. Once she's done, she steps in front of Quinn to examine her work. Santana purses her lips together. Something wasn't right, or rather, something was missing.

Quickly realizing what that something was, she makes quick dash to Brittany's bathroom to get some hair gel. She has it in Quinn's hair before Quinn can protest.

"Oh my god, San! You're a genius!" Brittany exclaims, looking up from her paints and seeing her creation. She quickly comes over to stand by Santana and admire her work. "That's so perfect. So..."

"Her." Santana quietly finishes.

It _was_ so her.

And it stuns Santana just how much so.

With this pushed back, spiky, regal look, it was like she was seeing Quinn for the first time.

"Are you sure you've never worn your hair like this?" Santana questions, a little unnerved at just how familar this situation suddenly was.

Like she's been here before. In this _same_ situation. Santana takes a step back, struck with confusing case of deja vu. She could have sworn she's seen that very hairstyle on Quinn before. Maybe at school?

"I assure you, no." Quinn stands and looks at herself in Brittany's mirror, unsure of what to make of her new hairstyle. "I don't even own hair gel."

The smile that helplessly tugs at the blonde's lips leads Santana to believe she quite liked it.

Which leaves Santana feeling ridiculously proud.

"Oh!" Brittany perks up with realization, inadvertently yanking Santana out of her moment. "I almost forgot!"

Both Santana and Quinn look over with curiosity as Brittany runs over to the other side of her room and pulls a folded piece of paper from out of her backpack. "Look at what I found posted in the girl's bathroom."

She unfolds the flyer and hands it to Quinn.

After a quick glance over Quinn's shoulder, Santana lifts her gaze to meet that of her exuberant best friend.

"What the fuck is the New Directions?"

—

Brittany wants to join glee club.

_Glee club_.

"Auditions are next week." she informs, her eyes positively brimming with excitement.

"No way, Britt."

Glee club is social suicide and Brittany knows it, but _of course_, she doesn't care.

She's never cared about the opinions of others. She does what she loves regardless of what people may think or say. End of story.

Santana only wishes she could say the same and actually be honest about it.

Brittany pouts at her flat out rejection of the idea. Aside from painting, she just so happens to _love_ to sing and dance. "C'mon San." she begs.

"Now that that creepy Mr. Ryerson isn't involved anymore, it sounds like it could be a lot of fun. And don't act like you can't sing or dance because we both know that you can."

True she was all kinds of crazy talented in that department but that didn't mean she wanted to spend what little free time she had singing and dancing to lame ass showtunes. She'd rather be taken out to the woods and shot down like a horse.

_But _in spite of all that, she fixes her best friend with a pleading stare, knowing that in the end the blonde was a mastermind at getting her way. All Brittany had to do was stare at her with those ridiculously pretty baby blues and smile that cute little smile and she'd cave faster than Eeyore's house on a blustery day.

(All these references to children's stories are all Brittany's doing, by the way.)

"Britt." she starts, groaning in that way that basically translates to _don't make me do this_.

"It'll be fun." Brittany persists, her eyes just as pleading, maybe more so. "The three of us can audition together -"

Quinn's head shoots up, her eyes suddenly wide with alarm. "Excuse me?"

Her fear makes this whole situation a little more okay with Santana. At least she'd be able to drag blondie down the road of public humilation with her.

Heh.

"C'mon, Quinn." Brittany encourages. "It'll be a great bonding experience for all of us."

Santana shoots her best friend an unnconvinced sidelong glance.

Quinn shakes her head, made ill at ease within a matter of seconds. "I think I'll pass, Brittany." she begins delicately, not wanting to hurt her fellow blonde's feelings. "I'm not too comfortable performing in front of others. Or at all really."

"Don't worry, Quinn. Santana and I have your back from now on. We're not gonna let you embarrass yourself. Not that it's humanly possible. You're too awesome for that." Brittany babbles, grinning.

While touched, Quinn is still very much reluctant. And with good reason.

"We'll let you pick the song." Brittany offers, hoping it'd serve as persuasion enough.

"Hold up." Santana raises a hand, _so_ not okay with that. She sends a quick look Quinn's way. "No offense but you might have crap taste in music and if I'm going to be roped into doing this," She glances back at the _other_ blonde. "I want at least some say in what song we use to humiliate ourselves."

Brittany playfully rolls her eyes at her. "We are not going to humiliate ourselves. I mean how can we? We're a trinity now, and trinity's are epic, therefore our performance is going to be epic." she states matter-of-factly.

"An epic disaster." Santana corrects. Does Brittany even know if Quinn can sing or dance? Hell for all they know she's tone deaf and pigeon-toed.

"A trinity? As in...the Holy Trinity?" Quinn wonders.

Santana snorts. "I'm about as holy as I am straight."

Brittany smirks at that. "_Unholy_ Trinity then." She raises her brow at Santana. "Better?"

"It's alright." she shrugs, conceding to a smile.

Brittany beams.

On the other side of the spectrum, Quinn's pursed her lips held a frown. "I don't know if I like being thought of as unholy."

Santana rolls her eyes at her in a sidelong glance. "Well get used to it, Fabray. The name stays." she declares.

Cause hey, if they're gonna be a trinity, they might as well be an unholy one.

"Just like our names on the glee club sign up sheet in the hall." Brittany nods, slipping it in there oh so subtly.

But not subtle enough to get it past both Santana and Quinn.

"What?" She shrugs innocently at the similar looks she receives from them both. "It's true. I wrote it in _sharpie_. That stuff stays on there for life."

Santana just chuckles. Surprisingly, so does Quinn.

—

That night no one went home, the three of them having spent the rest of night trying to come up with song selections for their sudden glee club audition. Santana, of course, suggested they do Amy Winehouse, while Brittany suggested girl groups, like TLC or Destiny's Child. From there Quinn suggested the Supremes because really, if it wasn't for them, none of those groups would even exist, and it was just so perfect that they just ran with it.

It turned out to be surprisingly fun, trying to make up choreography in Brittany's cluttered room while trying not to wake her parents up. And not to mention exhausting, but in the best way. Santana's not sure what time they passed out, but she's pretty sure it was already morning when they did.

Santana groans inwardly when she feels herself awakening, even though she was still dead tired. She refuses to open her eyes, so she can't tell what time it is, but if she'd had to guess it was probably around the time her alarm clock usually went off.

Ugh. It's fucking Saturday. Doesn't her body know that?

Frustrated, she buries her face further into her warm pillow with a sigh. She squeezes it closer to her body, not all prepared for it to go and exhale on her.

What the...?

Drowsily, Santana pulls back and slowly blinks her eyes open. It takes her a second to get her bearings, but when she does, she takes a look around and realizes she was in bed with Brittany and Quinn.

And were they, really...?

Yeah. They were all definitely spooning.

She's spooning Quinn, who's spooning Brittany. (Ironic that the tallest one of them all is the baby spoon).

Well, it could be worse. At least she wasn't getting her cuddles on with Lord Tubbington - that tabby was nothing but a fat ol' stink bomb with fur.

Too sleepy to be truly bothered by their sleeping arrangements, Santana rests her head back down against Quinn's shoulder.

The blonde shifts again, evidently awakened by her movement. "You're drooling on my shirt, Santana." Quinn sighs, her voice thick with sleep.

"S'not mine." she mumbles, already well on her way to falling back asleep.

"I'm making you wash it."

"Fine, whatever. Shut up so I get my zzz's back on."

Santana hisses when Quinn takes the opportunity to jab her in the ribs. "Don't tell me to shut up." she orders sleepily.

"Yes, _your highness_."

Another jab.

"Don't call me that."

Santana curses under her breath. "Figures the only time you want to talk is at five o'clock in the freaking morning." she mutters.

"You're the one still talking." Quinn reminds. "And to yourself I might add."

"Shove it, Fabray. Afores I end you."

"Both of you shove it, or I'm throwing you out." Brittany declares grumpily, turning around to whack them both with her pillow.

Quinn shakes her head tiredly at the blonde. "So violent."

Behind her, Santana snorts. "You should see her with a frying pan."

—

Later that morning, after they got in a little more sleep time, the three of them head over to abuela's restaurante for breakfast.

(Santana figures her abuela is less likely to murder her for sleeping over at Brittany's if there are people around).

"Remind me to take it easy on your mom's cookies next time, Britt." she says, a hand pressed against her admittedly upset stomach.

"We warned you." Brittany sighs, exchanging a sidelong glance with Quinn. "But you said you could handle it. Said Lopez's have iron stomachs."

"And we do. I just couldn't properly digest my food because _someone_ disrupted by sleep pattern." Santana says, turning to glare at the other blonde in question.

Quinn rolls her eyes at her. "Your sleep patterns have nothing to do with your body's digestion process, Santana."

Santana scoffs. "Shows what you know."

"Hey." Both Quinn and Santana stop when Brittany suddenly grabs their arms. "Look at that."

Santana follows her friend's gaze up to the clock tower across the street. Her brow automatically lifts at the sight.

"Someone finally fixed the clock." Quinn realizes.

For as long as Santana can remember - there's that saying again - the time on that clock has always been stuck on 8:15. It always used to annoy the hell out of her whenever she'd look up and see it on her way to school. Made her feel like no time was passing here at all, like everything and everyone here was stuck. Frozen in existence.

"Well it's about _fucking_ time."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: To those that are waiting on Where the Wild Things Are, I hope to post a new chapter over winter break. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about it. <strong>

**Anyways, thanks for reading and reviews are greatly appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: First off, Happy New Year all! Second, thank you so much for the kind reviews, that was a nice surprise. Truthfully I didn't have any plans to continue this, I'd just had that one idea but then I found myself brainstorming and so spawned this monstrous second chapter. lol. I would have updated much sooner had I not rewritten this thing oh, five million times. But I digress.**

**This chapter takes place in the Enchanted Forest, er...Fairy Tale Land? Whatever, same difference. If you didn't already figure it out, here are the Trinity's fairy tale counterparts.**

**Santana - Red Riding Hood (Using OUAT's version as the basis, but plan to change the backstory and such a little).**

**Quinn - Elsa (From _Frozen_, obviously.)**

**Brittany - Rapunzel (The _Tangled_ version, just because there's a lot to work with. But I am altering her story a little too, and how her magical hair works, so it doesn't _completely_ follow the movie's events or ending.)**

**If you haven't seen those movies mentioned, then things might get confusing and most likely all my wonderful little references will go over your head. Which will suck because I actually researched for this!**

**But either way you can look up or a synopsis online or something. **

**Anyways, read. enjoy. review!**

* * *

><p><em>God damnit<em>.

Frustrated, Red turns around for what feels like the umpteenth time and impatiently tugs at her dragging cloak - the one catching on just about every little thing in her path.

If it wasn't for the stupid scrap of fabric she'd have reached her destination already.

Blowing out a calming breath, Red's eyes fit to the sky briefly, at the sunshine peeking out through the treetops, then returns her gaze to the ground to do a quick scan of her surroundings.

When she's sure there's no signs of life around, she pushes down her hood and shrugs off her heavy red cloak. Cloaks and summer just did not mix, especially for a werewolf who overheated enough as it was.

As she smoothes out the wrinkles and drapes the cloak over one arm, Red flashes back to all those instances where her grandmother warned her against doing such a thing.

_"That cloak is the only thing that will keep the wolf at bay, mija. You must wear it at all times. It will keep you safe."_

But more importantly, it would keep _others_ safe.

But that was then. This things were different now. Her cloak was no longer the security blanket it once was. She had long given up using it as an excuse to live in fear of herself rather than learn control.

She was done living that way - hiding behind her cloak, constantly isolating herself out of fear she'd hurt someone. That wasn't living and she'd be damned if she allowed herself to waste another seventeen years continuing to do so.

Hell just thinking about the life she could have led if she'd only tried to control her wolf sooner, rather than let it control _her_, made her want to strangle herself with her own hood.

Shaking her head - after all what good is thinking about all the what ifs and if onlys? - Red walks up to the rockwall at the end of her path and pushes aside the thick curtain of vines that covered the secret entrance. She proceeds through the short tunnel and comes out on the other side, to where a small clearing housed a lone tower in the very center.

She smiles faintly at the sight, relieved that she'd finally reached the endpoint of her journey. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she sets forward until she was right under the tower window.

As she cranes her neck back, she presses her two fingers to her lips and blows out a sharp, piercing whistle.

"Hey, Blondie!"

The blonde in question appears after a moment, her head poking out of the window. "Is that anyway to address a princess?" she questions, her brow raised.

"For me it is." she nods.

A beaming smile overtakes the girl's face. "Glad to know my being a royal hasn't changed you, Red."

"Likewise, Rapunzel." she nods, smiling genuinely.

It's been a couple weeks since she last saw Rapunzel, where in she helped the blonde reunite with her parents, who she'd been taken from as a baby and locked in away in a tower for seventeen years by a batshit crazy old broad with serious aging issues. Now the two were thick as thieves.

Red stares up at the blonde, holding up her basketful of goodies as to remind her best friend why she was here in the first place. "So are you coming down or am I coming up?"

Rapunzel just grins and throws her long ass hair out the window. "Climb on up, buddy."

—

Red leans back on her hands, idly glancing around Rapunzel's room. The walls are still covered in the blonde's artistically cheery paintings. Anyone who didn't know would never have guessed that this place had been used as a place of imprisonment for the now "ex - Lost Princess of Corona".

"I don't see why you like coming back to this place when you've got a palace to call home now." She turns her head and stares at the blonde, her brow furrowed inquisitively. "I mean doesn't this place just bring back all those crap memories of being a prisoner here?"

Surprisingly, Rapunzel's lips draw together at that remark. "I wouldn't say I was a prisoner exactly." she mumbles, biting down on a carrot stick.

"Rapunzel," Red's brow lifts as she gently reminds, "You couldn't leave, remember?"

The blonde nods concedingly, her gaze downcast. The patterning on her dress was apparently more interesting. "Yeah, but it wasn't like I was chained to the wall or anything." she says, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "It wasn't all that bad here, you know."

Red stares at Rapunzel closely, not used to seeing this lackluster side of her friend. "What's going on, Goldilocks?"

Rapunzel smiles faintly at Red's other nickname for her and sighs. "It's just...everything changed so fast. And adjusting to this new life - being a princess - is a lot harder than I expected." she confesses unexpectedly.

The dejected look on her face tugs on Red's heartstrings. Straightening up, she crawls over to her best friend's side and throws a comforting arm around the blonde. Rapunzel leans into the embrace without hesitation.

"This tower is all I've known for my entire life. And when I'm at the castle I don't feel like I'm at home like I should. There I feel more alone than ever, even more than when I was locked up here with mother- I mean _that_ woman." Rapunzel cringes slightly at her slip up. "And I hate it. I don't want to feel this way. I thought reuniting with my family would mean I'd never feel alone again but it just makes it worse."

"I'm sorry, Goldie." Red offers, rubbing the girl's shoulder.

Sighing, Rapunzel lifts her head and turns around to fully regard Red. "Why can't you just come back to Corona with me? Our castle's huge and I don't think the king and -" Once again Rapunzel has to correct herself. "I mean my _parents_ would mind you staying with us for a while. They can spare a bedroom, they have hundreds. You can have the one next to mine!" she suggests, her eyes suddenly brimming with excitement.

Red's lips curve to form a sympathetic smile. "Rapunzel I can't just abandon my grams to live with you in a castle, however tempting it is. She needs me. And besides, I have a life back home." Granted it wasn't much of one but still... "I can't just leave it."

Rapunzel's shoulders deflate. "Yeah, I know." she sighs, shaking her head. "It was worth a shot." She looks over at Red again. "I just hate that I don't get to see you all the time." she pouts. "You're my best friend."

"And you're mine." Red smiles, reaching out and squeezing her hand.

Rapunzel beams, feeling significantly better than she did before just from those words alone. The blonde pauses for a moment, preoccupying herself with picking up Pascal from the floor, before continuing, "So...I have another question for you."

"Uh-oh." Red says jokingly, plucking a single grape from the bunch.

It's as she's popping it in her mouth that she sees that Pascal, Rapunzel's weird little frog - er, chameleon - friend, had moved to his usual perch atop her friend's shoulder. He too has a grape in his mouth, but due to his small size, it makes his one cheek look all bloated and huge.

It's a pretty cute sight if Red was being honest.

She must have been staring too long because now Pascal has noticed it, which leads to a weird moment of eye contact.

It's awkward and they both seem to know it.

She _really_ wished she could say this didn't happen often, but it did.

"Uh," Red shakes her head uncomfortably, reverting her attention to the chameleon's owner. "What were you saying?"

Rapunzel chuckles. "I was about to say do you think you can get away long enough to go on another adventure with me?"

"Adventure?" Red raises her brow, confused but intrigued. "What do you mean?"

Rapunzel shifts around so she was sitting cross-legged and completely facing her. "Well it turns out I have a distant cousin who's like a queen and her sister whose a princess. My mother tried to explain the exact connection but it was too complicated for me to understand - not even Pascal knew what she was talking about." She waves her hand to get back on point. "Anyways, since we missed her coronation, my parents want me to pay them a visit."

Red rubs the back of her neck unsurely. "To where exactly?"

"Arendelle."

"Never heard of it."

"It's north of here, across the sea." Rapunzel looks at her expectantly, her eyes hopeful. "So...wanna come?"

"I don't do boats."

Rapunzel rolls her eyes briefly. "You also don't do horseback. It's a wonder you get anywhere."

Red playfully glares at her. "Hey, remember these?" She extends her legs out in front of her and makes a point of them. "They're called legs. It's what normal people use to get themselves places."

"C'mon, Red." Rapunzel smiles pleadingly, squeezing her hands insistently. "Please? My parents are insisting I go and I really don't want to travel all that way by myself. I could really use a buddy."

Red silently groans when Rapunzel flashes that adorably sweet smile - the one she knows she can't resist - her way.

"Okay, fine." she relents with a heavy sigh.

Rapunzel squeals excitedly and does a cute little triumphant hand gesture. "You're the greatest, Red."

Red steals another sandwich and takes a hearty bite. "Tell me something I don't know." she smirks, her voice muffled by the mouthful.

Rapunzel takes that line to heart. "Well...according to my parents, my cousin has magical powers. Like she can manipulate ice and snow and stuff. In fact just recently she accidentally froze her entire kingdom..."

Red stops mid-chew. She takes a moment to swallow. "Come again?"

"It's okay." Rapunzel assures like it's not a big deal. "Apparently she's had some issues controlling her powers but they're all good now. No more eternal winter. It's in part why my parents wanted me to visit, to see if we can offer them any assistance in their recovery."

Red blinks. Then, out of habit, shares a glance with the frog as if to say, _did you know about this?_

(And really she _has_ to stop treating Pascal like he's an actual fucking person).

"So let me get this straight." Once she gets her bearings, Red lifts her gaze to meet Rapunzel's. "You want to go off and visit some unstable ice princess who could potentially turn us into icicles the second we arrive?"

Rapunzel nods. "Yes."

"Are you crazy?"

Her brow furrows. "No. She's family and family helps each other." Seeing Red's unconvinced stare, Rapunzel reminds, "You already gave me your word. You can't back out now."

Red heaves another sigh. "I'm just trying to look out for you. For both of us. I mean the last adventure we went on we did nearly get ourselves killed by that psycho step-mom of yours. No offense but I'd rather not have a repeat of that and get like frozen to death or something."

"For all we know my cousin's really harmless."

"And for all we know she's really not."

Rapunzel's frown deepens. "I'd have thought you _of all people_ would be a little more understanding and not be so quick to judge someone you don't even know about something they have no control over."

Red makes a face, knowing that her friend did have a valid point and kind of hating her for it. Why'd she have to be so damn right all the time?

"For all we know we'll become the best of buds with her." Rapunzel continues.

Red snorts at the very idea. "Yeah, I don't really see that happening."

"And anyways aren't you the one always saying the cold never bothers you? You know you're acting less like a Big Bad Wolf and more like L-"

Red holds up a finger, interjecting before that awful, _awful_ name could be uttered aloud. "Don't even say it, Blondie." she warns.

Rapunzel, if anything, is amused by her reaction. "I don't see why the name bothers you so much." she shrugs. "If I had to have a nickname, might as well be Little Red Riding Hood. How cute is that?"

"Ugh." Red shudders at the mention of her old childhood moniker - the one that still haunted her to this very day.

When she registers the light giggling coming from the blonde, her grimace deepens. "That'd be like if people called you Little...Blonde...Growing Hair."

Rapunzel looks at her and releases a short laugh. "That's the best you got?"

Red scoffs a laugh. "Shut up." she glares, playfully flicking a grape her way. "It was off the top of my head."

"Doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, does it?" Rapunzel further teases.

Red arches one eyebrow at her. "Oh, and like _Rapunzel_ does?"

Scrunching up her nose, Rapunzel leans forward and punches her in the arm. "Jerk."

Red pulls a face at the surprisingly hurtful contact. "Well, at least you didn't resort to your go-to weapon of choice." she mumbles, gingerly rubbing her now tender left bicep.

Rapunzel throws her head back and groans exasperatedly. "One time, Red. I hit you in the face with a frying pan and knock you out _one time_."

"One time is all it takes. And don't forget you also stuffed my unconscious ass in your freakin' closet." Sure it'd all been a misunderstanding of her being some kind of criminal, but still... "My spine hasn't been the same since, by the way."

Rapunzel sits back on her hands and shakes her head at her. "You are never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Not any time soon, no." Red smirks.

Rapunzel rolls her eyes before jokingly posing the question, "Tell me why are we friends again?"

Red smiles to herself, already knowing her response. "Because you're the only one who doesn't care that I sometimes turn into a bloodthirsty wolf."

Rapunzel thinks about it and nods. "True."

"And I'm the only one who doesn't judge you for treating a chameleon like it's an actual person." she adds, smiling teasingly. She's gonna hold off mentioning that she actually sometimes is guilty of doing the exact same thing.

"And for that I _thank you_."

Red nods, knowing that, joking aside, the blonde truly was grateful. Talking to Pascal in public was something others in Corona tended to tease her about and give her strange looks for, and Rapunzel appreciated that she never did that to her.

Just as Red appreciated how Rapunzel never made her feel like she was different (even though she obviously was). But more importantly, Rapunzel never _feared_ her. And that meant more to her than words could ever express.

Red extends her reach so the two could meet in the middle and fist bump. "Likewise, Blondie."

—

Red's the first one off the ship when it finally docks. She wasn't kidding when she said she didn't do boats. Not because she gets seasick or has a fear of drowning or anything like that, she just doesn't like being confined to an enclosed space with no way of escape. Especially where other people are concerned.

Wolves and captivity just do not go together. Like at all.

While waiting on Rapunzel to catch up to her, Red takes inventory of her new surroundings for the first time. (Before she'd been too preoccupied with keeping herself in check to bother paying it any attention).

The view was nothing short of breathtaking. Like something out of a painting, the evergreen color palette of it all was so natural and _fresh_.

Just how Red likes it.

Feeling the breeze on her face, she inhales deeply. The crisp mountain air that permeated the kingdom provided a much needed comfort to her, its' scent reminding her of home, of the forest.

"Red, you ready?"

Breaking from her daze, she turns around to find Rapunzel and her horse, Maximus, standing behind her. "Yeah," she confirms with a nod. "Ready when you are."

As the two of them - well, _three_ if you count Max (four if you count Pascal) - make their way through Arendelle, Red notices a lot of things about the small northern kingdom. For one, while their castle was every bit as dignified and grand, it wasn't nearly as extravagent as Rapunzel's family's place. But Red liked it nonetheless. Preferred it, actually.

Another thing: for a kindgom that was supposedly struggling with the aftermath of their queen's so-called 'eternal winter', things looked relatively normal to her. No signs of devastation whatsoever; in fact the people seemed perfectly content.

Not that Red was complaining or anything. She'd take it all as signs that the queen's 'curse' had been greatly exaggerated and that maybe the queen herself wasn't all that dangerous, unlike what all the people of their ship thought.

The whole voyage here, nothing but whispers of her, speculations and rumors, filled the ship. Red didn't even know the girl and already she had her empathy. After all she knew first hand what it felt like to have people talking about you behind your back and it wasn't a feeling she'd wish on anyone.

Except her enemies, of course.

—

By the time they actually reach the castle, the excitement that had preoccupied Rapunzel from the second they departed in Corona had all but been extinguished. In its place a gnawing anxiety took over.

"What if they don't like me? What if they don't like Pascal?" Rapunzel looks over at her with worried eyes, then turns away quickly, her mind running rampant. She glances down unsurely at her favorite pink and purple dress. "Do you think I should have worn something more formal...more princess-y? I should have, shouldn't I?"

Red shakes her head, the blonde's unease making both her and her wolf a little on edge. "Blondie, relax." she calmly orders, knowing if she didn't neither one of them was going to make it inside the castle. "And breathe. You got this. You're gonna love your cousins and they're gonna love you."

"I hope so." Rapunzel eyes the castle with apprehension. "I've never done this before. At least not without my parents around to make sure I don't say something stupid." She whips around again, her eyes even wider than before. "Red, what if I say something stupid and destory our kingdoms' whole relationship and they decide to declare war on Corona? It'll be all my fault..."

"Hey, hey," Red clasps her friend's shoulders and forces her to meet her eyes. "What did I just say? It's going to be okay. I believe in you. Know why?"

Rapunzel shakes her head unknowingly.

"Because you're epic. Like...the princess to end all princesses." She beams at the blonde's quirked lips. "There isn't a princess alive that doesn't wish she had your awesomeness."

Rapunzel's smile grows more bashful at her words. "Thanks, Red." Sniffling, she blows out a much needed breath. "Okay then."

She turns and squares her shoulders, trying to get in that 'Princess of Corona' state of mind. "You're right. Of course you're right. You're always right. Well, except that time-"

Red quietly clears her throat and discreetly nods to the guard coming their way. She can hear Rapunzel swallow so she sticks close by her side just in case. "Everything's going to be fine." she reassures one last time.

Rapunzel just nods.

The guard that approaches them does not bother with pleasantries, instead choosing to get right down to it. "Please state your name and business."

"Er," Rapunzel bites down on her lip, then exchanges a quick glance with Red. "I am Rapunzel, Princess of Corona, here to see my cousins, the Princess and the Queen. They're uh, expecting us."

Silently cringing, she looks at Red again, as if to say, _was that alright?_

Red just smiles and nods while the guard takes a look at his clipboard. After a moment, he lifts his gaze and announces, "I have no record of any royals coming to visit her majesty and her highness today."

Red and Rapunzel share another look before the latter finally speaks up again. "Well...we did come earlier than expected." she amends, sheepishly reverting her attention to the guard. "We would have sent notice but by then we were already on the boat and it was too late."

The guard says nothing but eyes them both skeptically.

Red's expression hardens. "She's not lying." she snaps, her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Just ask them yourself."

The guard clears his throat and nods. "Right this way then."

While his back is turned, Rapunzel raises her eyebrows at Red before they head inside. In turn, she just smirks.

She always did have a knack for the intimidation game.

She was, after all, the Big Bad Wolf.

Heh.

—

After a short walk through the castle, one of the servants leads them into the throne room. Or at least that's what Red assumes the room is called...considering there's a throne at the end of it.

Also at the end of the hall was a freckled girl around their age, lounging on the throne with her head hanging off the side, a box of chocolates in her lap. Beside her was a blonde guy propped up against the throne, idly playing the lute.

The pair startles to attention the second the doors boom open.

The strawberry blonde was particularly caught off-guard. "I didn't steal them from the kitchen I swear!" she asserts, using the back of her hand to wipe her mouth clean of any chocolate.

In a very un-princesslike manner, Red might add.

"They're apart of my secret stash - you know the one I keep in my room. Yeah, that's it. I definitely didn't sneak into the kitchen while Kristoff was distracting the cook and take them when no one was looking - _oh_." A huge sigh of relief escapes her when it registers that they weren't her older sister coming to reprimand her. "Kai." Her shoulders visibly slacken. "I thought you were Elsa for a second."

"No, your highness."

The princess blows out an exaggerated breath, laughing awkwardly. "Right." She turns to them expectantly, smiling curiously. "And who's this?"

Kai raises his chin. "Announcing Princess Rapunzel of Corona and..." His voice falters as he steals a sidelong glance at Red. He hardly doubted that she was royalty, and therefore worth mentioning, but his job required to do so anyways.

As a result, Red has to resist the urge to roll her eyes. "Just call me Red."

The princess's brow furrows in mild confusion. "Like the color?" She rolls her eyes briefly at herself. "Of course like the color, what else is red besides a color? I'm assuming it's a nickname, but what do I know? Maybe your parents just really love the color red and have a quirky sense of style and wanted to name you after their favorite color. And why wouldn't they - red's a really nice color."

And now Red's starting to see the family resemblance.

"Will that be all your highness?" inquires Kai, hands clasped behind his back.

"Yes, thank you Kai." The young royal waits for him to leave before clasping her hands. "Right. Anyways. I'm Anna, if you didn't already know."

The blonde boy next to her clears his throat, subtly reminding them all of his presence. "Oh right." Anna shoots him an apologetic smile before properly introducing them. "This is Kristoff. Arendelle's Ice Master and Deliverer." she declares proudly. "He's also my boyfriend. But that's not why he got the job. He earned it, of course. No favoritism here or anything..."

Anna lightly shakes her head, knowing she was getting sidetracked. "Kristoff, this is my cousin Rapunzel and her friend, Red."

"Nice to meet you both." he smiles earnestly.

"Sorry we dropped by unannounced." Rapunzel smiles apologetically at her cousin. "We came sooner than expected."

"No worries." Anna assures, waving it off like no big deal. "I'm kind of glad actually. I've been waiting for this moment ever since your parents told us you would be coming. It's so cool we have family, I mean for so long it's just been my sister and I."

"My mother told me about your parents, I'm so sorry."

Anna's smile falters a bit. "Me too." It hangs there between them for a moment, then Anna clears her throat. She perks right back up again.

"But we're glad you're here."

Anna subtly nudges her boyfriend then and out of the corner of her eye gives him a pointed look.

It takes a second before it registers. "Oh right." Clearing his throat, Kristoff - along with Anna - throws out his hands in what is apparently a pre-planned gesture.

It's not at all awkward when they exclaim with varying levels of enthusiasm, "Welcome to Arendelle!"

—

Red silently groans when Anna leads them toward yet _another_ room. The one downside of being a guest in a castle she's learned is the complimentary tour.

After about the third or fourth room, Red tuned out of the conversation at hand. She could get away with it without worry - Rapunzel and Anna were getting along so well (no surprise) that neither one would notice if she didn't participate.

On their way to the portrait room (Seriously? Portraits? Blah. Shoot her _now_) Red glances around curiously, seeing the royal servants going about their business but coming up empty-handed when it came to catching a glimpse of the queen herself.

As a result she releases a small huff of frustration.

So she's curious, alright?

While Anna's blabbering on about Joan Whatsherface, Red can't help but bring up the subject. "So, where's your sister? Emma, right?"

"Elsa." Anna corrects lightly. "And she's busy meeting with some delgates from some far off kingdom or another." She waves off the detail unknowingly. "I forget who it is she's meeting with today. Every day it's someone new. She's been crazy busy ever since the whole 'eternal winter' incident. But don't worry, you'll meet her at dinner. She'll probably try to skip out to get more work done but once she knows that you guys are here, she won't be able to-"

The room's double doors open just then, distracting the princess. Red turns around, half expecting the queen, but instead it's just some attendant looking for Anna.

"Your highness, there is a steed outside that refuses to be taken away to the stables."

Red and Rapunzel share a quick glance, realizing they'd kind of forgotten about Maximus. Crap.

"I'll go." Red volunteers without much thought.

Rapunzel looks at her questioningly. "Are you sure?" After all they both know that she kind of hated that fleabag of a steed and vice versa.

In spite of that, Red nods. Nothing was really keeping her here anyways, Rapunzel and Anna were the ones who dominated the conversation, and frankly she was starting to feel like was intruding on a family affair. "You two have a lot to catch up on."

"I can assist you." Kristoff offers, stepping forward. "I'm quite good with animals."

Poor guy was probably looking for an out too, but Red didn't want a companion. She just needed some alone time. And some fresh air.

"Thanks but no thanks, ice man. I can handle Max just fine on my own."

It takes some coaxing, then the promise of apples, but eventually Red's able to get the stubborn ass to allow her to take him to the stables.

As she leads Max in by the reins, she continues her internal ramblings of how he's the brattiest, most annoying three year-old fleabag she's ever met. If it wasn't for Rapunzel, Red probably would have eaten him already.

Not that _she_ particularly liked the taste of horse but her wolf wasn't picky.

Being otherwise preoccupied with her thoughts, she fails to notice the other presence in the barn - er stables, whatever. It isn't until she looks up to see which stall was free for the taking that she realizes that standing before her was none other than the queen of Arendelle herself.

How does she know it's the queen? Well for one Anna showed them her sister's portrait hanging in the hall, and two she highly doubted anyone but the so-called 'snow queen' wore gowns made from what looked to be real ice crystals.

Stopping, Red's eyes dart around unsurely, suddenly feeling like she was intruding on the queen. Fortunately if she wanted to she could make a quick escape undetected as the queen - Eliza, Elise, whatever her name was again - had apparently not heard her come in with Maximus.

She was busy feeding a carrot to a, wait...was that a moose?

Red feels herself do a doubletake because, _what?_

"What's with the moose?"

Before she knows it she's asking that very question outloud, (Anna's not the only one who speaks before she thinks), and unintentionally startling the girl - er, _queen_.

In comparison to her younger sister's comical reaction to being intruded upon, the queen's response is much more subdued.

"He's a reindeer, actually." the blonde responds once she recovers from that mild start. "And you really shouldn't sneak up on people, especially me."

When she completely turns around, Red can't help but stare in awe. That dingy painting hanging in the castle really did not capture her beauty justly.

"I wasn't _trying_ to sneak up on you." She hears herself say. "Not my fault you were too busy making eyes at your donkey to notice me."

"Reindeer." the blonde repeats with slightest twinge of exasperation. "And his name is Sven."

Wait. Was this the same Sven that Kristoff wouldn't shut up about?

Red thinks about it for a second before silently shaking her head.

Nah. He had to have been talking about a person.

...right?

Red glances over at the animal suspiciously, then back at the blonde royal. "Why do you even have him here?"

The blonde stares at her oddly. "Where else would we keep him?"

Red raises her brow. "In the wild...where he belongs?"

The queen's lips twitch up at the corners in an almost smile. Her attention reverts to Sven as she offers him another carrot which he gladly takes. "If you don't mind my asking, who are you exactly?"

When those striking eyes settle back on her, Red feels that dazed feeling coming back on again. "I don't recall ever seeing you before."

"Red."

The queen's brow furrows in confusion. "Red?"

"Red." she confirms with a nod.

The blonde arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Red is a color."

_Well no shit._ Red rolls her eyes internally because really, it isn't as if she hasn't had this same conversation with just about _every_ person who's ever asked her name.

"It's also my name." she sighs.

The girl still has that disbelieving brow raised, which just further annoys her. "What?" she snaps. "You've never heard of people called Violet or Amber? Those are colors too, you know."

"But _Red?_"

Crossing her arms, Red huffs irritably. "Well what's your name then, huh?" she demands.

"Elsa."

_Elsa. Right. Not Elise, idiot._ "Yeah, well like _Elsa's_ any better." she scoffs. "Not very queen-like if you ask me. Better suited for an old broad who makes schnitzel for a living or something."

Elsa cocks her head slightly as she inquires with just a hint of a smile, "Do you typically speak this way to royals?"

Red doesn't even have to think about it. "Basically, yeah." she nods. "My best friend's a princess and she's cool with it."

Elsa just nods and wordlessly goes over to a dun-colored horse opposite Sven, then offers him a carrot.

"She's your cousin, by the way." she adds, getting the feeling Elsa didn't believe her. "My best friend. Rapunzel."

Elsa's eyes widen as it all clicks. She whips around frantically. "Oh god." Realizing it had to be true and that the fact had indeed slipped her mind, she groans. "Was that today?"

Red shakes her head quickly and takes a step closer. "No, we're just...we arrived earlier than expected." she explains, much to the relief of the blonde. "Uh, Rapunzel's with your sister, touring the castle and whatnot."

Elsa nods understandingly, relaxing slightly. "I've just had so much on my mind, so many things I need to get done - it wouldn't have surprised me if I did in fact forget the day of my cousin's arrival." She shakes her head to herself as she lightly pets her horse's mane.

Red just nods, unsure of what to respond with, and watches Elsa tend to her horse. After a minute she finally says, "Hans is a beautiful horse."

"Excuse me?" Elsa stares at her, bewildered. Red just points to the horse's blanket, which clearly has the name _Hans_ sewn into a corner in gold lettering.

"Oh." Elsa shakes her head, understanding now. "His name is not Hans." She hesitates momentarily before eventually saying, "Hans was...his previous owner."

Red raises her brow, then smirks at her less than telling response. She's smart enough to put two and two together. "So Hans was an ex-boyfriend, huh?"

Elsa blinks at her. "Hans is the psychopath who tried to murder both my sister and I and take over our kingdom. He is certainly not my boyfriend, former or otherwise."

_Oh._ Red's smile falters. _Way off mark, Red. Way off._

"So why then do you have his horse?" She wonders not at all awkwardly.

Elsa strokes the horse in between the eyes and shrugs. "It seemed like fair compensation considering. He tried to steal my kingdom, so I took his horse." The blonde smiles up at the animal when he tenderly pushes his muzzle against her cheek. "Not that Sitron needed much persuading."

Yeah, evidently not. He seemed to be a-okay with his new ownership.

Red shifts uncomfortably when Elsa drops a kiss to his nose. "Are you even sure he's a real horse?" she inquires, noting Sitron's zebra striped mane - a unique characteristic common to the horses here, she's noticed. "He might just be an oversized zebra donkey. A zonkey."

Sitron gives an indignant snort at that remark.

And seriously, do all horses understand people talk? Shit.

Elsa fixates her with a mildly admonishing stare as she walks over to her. "You shouldn't make fun of animals. They're perfectly capable of understanding you."

Elsa turns to Maximus expectantly, her eyes softening. "And who is this handsome stallion?"

Red rolls her eyes. "Well I don't know what stallion you're referring to but this mule here is Maximus."

"_Maximus_." Elsa repeats with an approving nod. "What a strong name."

Okay she's pretty sure the horse just straightened up and puffed out his chest at the compliment.

Red stares at him incredulously but Max doesn't pay her any attention, too busy reveling in the attention the gorgeous blonde was giving him.

Typical male.

"Here you go, Maximus." Elsa pulls a carrot from the bunch in her hands and offers him one.

"He prefers apples actually, but thanks..." The rest of Red's sentence dies on her lips as Max, the horse who - in all the time she's known him - has never willingly eaten a vegetable, eagerly chomps down the carrot like it was his first meal in months.

_Seriously?_

Ugh. This whole thing was so despicable she could puke.

"You can put him in that stall over there." Elsa says, pointing to the stall next to Sitron. "I'll see to it that our attendents take good care of him."

"It's okay, I can do it." she assures. She has a feeling she's gonna need to use him as an excuse any time she wanted some alone time. "Max doesn't really like strangers around him. He gets quite rambunctious."

Maximus throws his head back and releases a disagreeing whinny.

_Shut it, fleabag_, she glares.

A royal attendent walks into the stable then. He bows before formally addressing his queen. "Excuse me, your majesty. The dignitaries from the east have arrived."

"Break time is over then." Elsa sighs quietly, her voice not meant to be heard by the attendant. Taking a deep breath, she straightens her posture and nods. "I shall be there momentarily. Thank you, Odin."

"More dignitaries?" Red inquires, scoffing slightly. "That sounds dull as hell."

"Oh it is." Elsa nods, her smile bitter. "But someone has to meet with them." Patting Maximus' cheek one last time, she tells her "I'll see to it that he gets some apples" before beginning to walk away.

"Red."

Elsa looks back at her, her brow furrowed. "Excuse me?"

"He likes red apples." she clarifies.

Elsa nods, managing a small smile. "Duly noted. Do you think you can find your way back alright?" she wonders.

Red nods her head. "I can manage."

"Then I will see you later at dinner, if I get away long enough."

Red's looking forward to it. "Until then, your highness."

Elsa gives her another one of her small, almost-smiles. "Please, call me Elsa."

Right.

After the blonde leaves, Red finds herself left wondering what Elsa looks like when she _really_ smiles, if she ever truly does.

When she finally turns her attention away from the entryway, she's disturbed to find Maximus staring at her.

"What are you looking at?" she sneers.

Fucking horses, man. She'll never understand why people love them so much. They're such creeps.

—

"I'm bored."

Red keeps her gaze fixated on the intricate patterning of the ceiling as she sighs. "What do you want to do?"

She, like Rapunzel, is also bored. They've been lying on her bed for a while now, having run out of things to do.

Both their hostesses were busy at the moment. Anna was somewhere out with Kristoff - probably making out in the stables - while Elsa was preoccupied with her queenly duties.

Not that Red or Rapunzel really minded the lull. Though they were guests here, they didn't need nor expect to be entertained every second of every day.

Rapunzel shrugs unknowingly. "We could go track down the lovebirds and prank 'em or something." Red suggests, moving her hands behind her head. "That's always fun. Kristoff blushes harder than anyone I've ever seen. That alone is worth it."

Rapunzel hums noncommitally; Red tries again.

"Or we could go see what the snowflake's up to." Without turning her head, she glances over at the blonde. "See if she's done kissing up to all those dignitaries and bug her for a change."

Much to her dismay, they haven't really gotten time to spend any time with Elsa, aside from meals. And even then she isn't really there with them - too busy silently stressing over all that still needed to be done to properly engage anyone - leaving it up to Anna to keep the conversation going (not that that was at all difficult for her).

One could tell that Elsa wasn't great with social interaction, even with Anna, which Red found odd. They were sisters who clearly loved each other but there was an obvious disconnect between them. A few years age difference between them and their contrasting personalities maybe accounted for it but there seemed to be a deeper underlying reason behind it.

Neither her or Rapunzel knew their whole story and though they were dying to know more about it, they really didn't want to bring up what would undoubtedly be an uncomfortable conversation. So they just secretly crossed their fingers hoping one day one of the sisters would relay the story on their own.

What? From the tidbits they'd heard around the castle, it sounded like a _pretty_ interesting story.

"C'mon, Red! Let's go."

Before Red knows what's happening, Rapunzel is yanking her off the bed - her second suggestion apparently more appealing to the blonde than the first.

—

When they check her study and find it empty, they go to the only other place Elsa would be at this hour. And sure enough when they sneak in through the servants' entrance, they find the young queen at her throne still in session with whomever today's dignitary was. To Red they all blurred together, all of them donning relatively the same formalwear and weird facial hair.

You couldn't pay her all the money in the realm to deal with those old farts on a day to day basis.

Ducking behind a pillar, Red's still rubbing at the arm that had been unceremoniously yanked by her best friend.

Rapunzel was stronger than she looked (had to be with all that hair) and Red always forgot about it until she received a painful reminder.

Like _now_.

"I don't how men can stand to keep mustaches." Rapunzel whispers, keeping herself hidden by the pillar, but peeking out from behind it every now and again.

Red peers out over the top of her head, noting the serious 'stache Baron Whatshisface was sporting.

"I mean, doesn't it tickle? How do they not sneeze every minute of every day? I bet food catches in there _a lot_." Rapunzel grimaces. "I hope for Elsa's sake he washes it often. How awful to have to talk to someone who smells like he's got saurerkraut all up in there."

Red wrinkles her nose just thinking about it. "That's all kinds of nasty."

In that moment Elsa happens to glance in their general direction. Instinctively, they both duck back out of sight before she can see them.

"We really should have thought this through a little more." Rapunzel mumbles, sometime later when it becomes clear that Elsa's little powwow with Baron Von Big 'Stache wasn't wrapping up anytime soon.

"Agreed." Red shifts restlessly, rubbing her stiff neck. She'd already tuned out of the conversation and was back to being bored as hell. "Let's bolt and raid the kitchen. I'm starved."

Rapunzel nods agreeingly and rises from her crouched position. She's just about to tip-toe to the next pillar when the voices occupying the center of the room rise an octave, startling her back behind Red.

Apparently what had started out as a cordial conversation was turning into a heated disagreement.

Or, in short, things were finally about to get interesting.

"-Baron I assure you, you and your people have nothing to fear." Elsa's voice, while calm and even, was laced with the slightest hint of exasperation. "I am not -" She sighs deeply, tiredly. "_Please_ treat me as you would any other monarch and don't let this-"

"As much as I'd like to, your majesty, I simply cannot do that. You are unlike any other king or queen. In your short time on the throne you have already condemned your people to an eternal winter and in the process nearly destroyed Arendelle itself."

"It was an _accident_." Elsa stresses, her voice sounding less composed than she would have liked judging by the way her eyes shut for a brief second. "I was not in control of my powers then. But things are different now, I assure you."

She stares at the Baron with earnest eyes but he disregards them. "Your assurances mean nothing to me. For as long as you posess your dark magic you are a danger to not only to your kingdom and but to all the realms. Tis but a simple fact." he sniffs.

"Red." Beside her, Rapunzel tugs at her sleeve.

Red waves her off, wanting to hear what was being said.

"-please, reconsider." Elsa was saying, almost pleading with the man. "Our kingdoms have a long well regarded history with one another - an alliance that has spanned many generations."

"_Had_ an alliance, your majesty." The Baron corrects. "_Had_."

Red shakes her head in disbelief. _What a dick_. Turning her head, she realizes Rapunzel was still trying to get her attention.

"Look."

Red follows her gaze and sees that the armrests of Elsa's throne, the ones she was gripping for dear life, had a thin layer of ice slowly beginning to spread out across the surface.

Red shares a concerned look with Rapunzel. Uh-oh.

The Baron is none the wiser to the inner struggle plauging the young queen. "Magic is unnatural. Unholy. And my king, his majesty, will not do any further dealings with those he deems _adominable_."

They should probably do something before...

In the same instant that Elsa rips away from her seat, shards of ice materialize from the volatile magic that bursts out from the queen's trembling hands. The ice surrounds her throne like a protective barrier, prompting the Baron to stumble backwards to avoid being struck.

He seems to recover quickly enough though. Even that near fatal attack can't keep him from trying to get even more of a rise out of the young queen. "It is a good thing the honorable King and Queen, your father and mother, died before they could see what horrors their daughter would bestow upon their beloved land."

Red hears the sound of the chandelier trembling before she actually sees it. When she tears her eyes away from the soon-to-be throat less Baron, she sees that the light fixture in question had frozen over and as a result was no longer securally stable.

The Baron casts a smug glance around the room, which was quickly freezing over. He looked pleased with himself, like he had done his job in proving his point. "It looks as those it is only a matter of time before the next eternal winter starts again. How long does that make it?" He turns back to Elsa inquiringly, taunting her. "A whole two weeks since the last one? Well hopefully your people are better prepared this time around."

_Snap_.

That does it for the chandelier.

Red's throwing herself into action before she can properly think twice about it, tackling the Baron out of the way before the glass structure can flatten him into the ground.

When she recovers and pushes herself off the undeserving oaf, she whips around to the find the queen gone.

Rapunzel is suddenly absent too but Red can hear her running down the hallway, calling after the blonde royal.

Behind her, the Baron straightens. "My sincerest gratitudes to you, young madam. I don't know what-"

Red doesn't let him finish. Instead, she punches him as hard as she can muster.

Right in the mustache.

It hurts - _God does it_ - but it's too gratifying for her to really care.

"That's for being a fucking ass."

And with that she turns around and follows the trail of ice left in Elsa's wake.

—

It doesn't take long for her to catch up to Rapunzel.

"If that Baron is still hanging around after we take care of this I'm gonna knock his teeth in with my frying pan." Blondie tells her as they're hurrying down the corridor.

"Already done." Red breathes, skidding to a halt when they reach the end of the ice path. "Minus the whole frying pan, of course."

She bangs on the door they assume to be Elsa's when they hear a crash come from within.

"Elsa?" Rapunzel calls, pressing her hands against the door. "It's Rapunzel and Red. Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

A disbelieving glance is exchanged between them before Rapunzel continues. "You mind letting us in? We wanna talk to you."

No answer.

Rapunzel bites down on her lip then tries again. "Do you want us to get Anna?"

There's a moment of hesitation. "Yes." Then. "No. Don't get Anna. I don't want her in here. Please just go away."

There's a thud; something shatters.

Red fiddles with the doorknob to no avail. "Elsa, let us in. Please. We can help you."

"Go away. Please. Just go away. I'm fine."

Red pounds her fist against the wood in frustration. She's strong - stronger than most - but even she can't kick down a ten foot door that is potentially frozen over on the other side.

"Now what?"

Rapunzel looks around, then comes up with a way to get in. "All these rooms have balconies right?" Red just nods and allows herself to be led into the bedroom next to Elsa's. "So we'll use this balcony to get in through hers."

"So what we're just going to jump across the two balconies?"

Not that she _can't_ do it, she's just saying.

Rapunzel stops and tilts her head at her, giving her one of_ those _looks. "Really, Red?" She holds up her magically growing hair, her brow raised.

Red smiles broadly, making sense of her plan now. "Goldie you're a genius."

Rapunzel walks out onto the balcony with a smirk on her face. "Tell me something I don't know."

—

Elsa's bedroom is more like an ice chamber. Or at least, _right now_ it was.

Everything was frozen solid. The furniture, the drapes - with every step the young queen took ice spread out across the floor.

"For god's sake, where are they?"

Elsa has yet to notice their presence. Her back is to them; she's too busy rummaging through her drawers.

From what Red can hear, it's gloves she's after.

"Olaf probably borrowed them - or Anna. Knowing her she probably got rid of them." she mutters to herself, frantically rifling through drawer after drawer. "No one ever puts anything back where they are supposed to."

New layers of frost trickle up the walls like ivy, solidifying over the wallpaper. You can't even tell what color the room is supposed to be anymore.

"Damnit!" Elsa slams her dresser drawer shut and whips around, grabbing - pulling- at her hair. She jumps back when sees them standing there. "Wha-How did you..." She shakes her head furiously and scrambles to distance herself from them. "Are you two crazy? Get out of here the both of you!" she orders, bumping into her dresser in the process. "Now before you get hurt."

Rapunzel shakes her head, unafraid but concerned. "You're not gonna hurt us."

Elsa laughs bitterly, almost hysterically. "If I can hurt my own sister I will have no problem hurting you so please leave. I'm asking this for your own good. I can't calm down if I'm too worried about hurting you."

Pushing away from her dresser, she goes to her wardrobe. Her magic all but rips the doors off their hinges.

"Where are those gloves?"

She shakes her head to herself, eyes burning and voice constricting with unshed emotion. "I was so naive in thinking everything would magically be okay after the thaw. That making a stupid ice rink could make up for all the awful things I've done. I've tried to let it go but I can't, not truly. No matter how hard I try..."

Her head drops as she grips the sides of the wardrobe for dear life. She releases a deep wavering breath. "Get it together, Elsa." Red vaguely hears her whisper. "Control it...don't feel..."

"Elsa, take it easy." Rapunzel tries delicately. "Everything's going to be fine."

But Elsa isn't listening. She pushes away from the wardrobe and walks over to her window, her transparent cape flowing behind her. "I should have known better than to think I could handle this." she murmurs, staring past the glass to her kingdom below. "This is what they've all been waiting for."

"By tomorrow morning word will have surely spread through the kingdom that I nearly killed the Baron tonight and if they don't turn on me altogether, they'll resign to living in fear of me."

Rapunzel frowns deeply. "Your people don't fear you, Elsa." she says, coming up behind her. But not too close. "They love you. Everywhere we go we hear nothing but how highly regarded you are. People love you, _powers and all_."

Elsa turns her head away. "It won't last." Her eyes shut briefly, her voice small and weak even to her own ears. "Nothing ever does."

She moves away from the window, slowly turning back around. She may have calmed down some but that didn't mean she looked any more okay. In fact she looked exhausted.

"When's the last time you slept, huh?" Red asks.

Elsa doesn't answer at first. "I wish I knew."

Needing to focus her energy on something, anything, she goes over to her bed and begins cleaning up the mess she made. "All I know is I spend every night trying to block out all the horrible things that I've done and every morning trying to convince myself that I will not repeat those mistakes." Shaking her head, she casts aside her blankets hopelessly. "Not that it does any good." she sniffles, backing herself up against the wall and resting there.

Red could see her body beginning to tremble again. Elsa was fighting herself, trying to suppress the emotion that threatened her will to control her power.

Gone was the living embodiment of composure and confidence people percieved Elsa to be - the facade ironically having melted away while everything else was being consumed in ice.

Instead of a regal queen standing before her, Red saw nothing but an insecure mess of a girl.

She fucking hated it.

"I should have gone back." Elsa shakes her head to herself. She rolls her head along the wall behind her, banging it slightly. "I-I should have stayed at the North Mountain. Why didn't I stay? It's where I belong."

While pushing down one's emotions sounds like the way to go, Red knows from experience that suppressing them only makes things worse.

"Elsa, you belong with family."

Elsa shakes her head, whispering brokenly. "Some people are meant to be alone."

"No one's meant to be alone." Rapunzel disagrees.

"I am!" Elsa yells furiously, turning on them. Her expression crumbles instantaneously.

"Don't you get it?" she cries, almost desperately, shaking her already trembling hands at them. "It's not getting better. It's _never_ going to get better."

A flurry of snow arises and a solid wind begins to swirl around her with her every labored breath.

"Elsa..." Red reaches out to the blonde, but she tenses up before she can make contact.

"Don't!" Elsa flings her arm out to the side and her wardrobe bursts in a frosted blast. She stares at her outstretched hand, then at the splintered pieces of wood.

Devastation.

Fury.

Then despair.

Frustration.

Wave after wave of unbridled emotion sends her spiraling back into that violatile state that threatened to tear her apart from the inside out.

Red walks up to her without warning or hesitation. Elsa startles back when she sees this. "Red, _please_." she begs. "Go. Before I accidentally harm-"

Red's had plenty of people recoil in fear in front of her before. But usually it was _her_ they were afraid of, not of themselves.

"Elsa, hey." Red calmly reaches out and takes her wrists, despite the other girl's protests. "I want you to look at me. Elsa, look at me."

Elsa shakes her head, frantically trying to pull herself free. "Red, get away. I'm not - I'm not in control."

Red keeps her grip firm. Elsa's skin is cool to the touch but not like the ice you'd expect.

"Actually you're a lot more stable than you think. C'mon." Red lowers herself to the floor forcing Elsa to do the same.

"You are not going to hurt me or Rapunzel." she says with real conviction. She isn't just faking it or saying those words to get Elsa to calm down. She means it. "Take a deep breath. Take a deep breath along with me. Alright?"

Elsa struggles but is eventually able to do as she asks.

Without breaking eye-contact, Red addresses Rapunzel who'd joined them on the floor. "Goldie, why don't you show Elsa what you can do with your hair?"

The girl was in desperate need of a distraction.

Red beckons Elsa to watch as Rapunzel starts to sing her song, prompting her waist long hair to expand to the floor.

Much like Red when she first saw it, Elsa couldn't believe what she was seeing. "Your hair...it's getting _longer_."

"Yep." Rapunzel stands to better show it off. "I can grow it as long as I want." Her hair brushes the floor with her every move. "But this is nothing. Give me another minute and I can get it over seventy feet long."

"Uh, maybe another time, Blondie." Red suggests kindly. "It takes forever for her to get it back to its normal length." she explains to Elsa with a brief eye roll.

As Rapunzel settles back down, Elsa's still eyeing her hair. She looks like she wants to touch it, but refrains out of fear that her powers might act up again. "So...you have magical powers too?" Her voice is raspier than usual, laced with both wariness and what sounded like relief.

"Well if you count magically growing hair with healing capabilites, then yeah." Rapunzel holds out her hair for Elsa to feel but she politely declines with a slight shake of her head. "It's way more helpful than any rope. Not to mention much softer."

Rapunzel reaches across and lightly tickles Red's cheek with the tips of her hair. "Red's magical too." she beams.

Red squirms a little, her nose scrunching up. "I wouldn't say magical, B. You make me sound like a damn unicorn or something."

Rapunzel chuckles and shifts her gaze back to Elsa. Behind her hand, she tells her not so secretly, "Red can shift into a wolf any time she likes."

Elsa regards her with curious eyes. "Like a werewolf?"

Red just nods, half expecting that little revelation to send the girl running for the door. Or at the very least trigger a little wide-eyed panic.

But Elsa doesn't so much as flinch. "I thought werewolves only turned on the full moon." she says, frowning a little.

"That's the one time we shift whether we want to or not, but actually we can shift of our own free will on any night. Most of us choose not to though, for obvious reasons."

There's a moment of silence before Red decides to continue, figuring her next words might help to comfort Elsa.

"I've hurt people I cared about too, you know." she brings up quietly, shrugging off her cloak and holding it in her hands. The room's still covered in ice but the cold has never really bothered her. "This cloak - it's magical." Her thumb brushes over the frayed edges. "Supposed to suppress my wolf. Keep me from shifting and whatnot."

"Kind of like my gloves." Elsa says quietly. "They kept my powers contained."

Red nods. "Yeah. But I didn't always have this cloak though. So I had to distance myself from people too, keep to myself as much as I could. That way I didn't endanger anybody." Red stares down at the fabric that for so long has defined who she was. "When my grams gave it to me on one of my birthdays, I relied on it so much that it became like a security blanket. I never took it off."

"I didn't care that people made fun of me for always wearing it. All that mattered was that I couldn't hurt anybody anymore. Even when my emotions were all over the place, even in the dead of night, hell even on a full moon. It was great. For a while there I almost deluded myself into believing I was actually normal." Red shakes her head, a bitter chuckle escaping her.

"It wasn't until my cloak was stolen and I had to go back shifting that I realized I hadn't been doing myself any favors hiding behind it and pretending that I was something that I was not."

Glancing over at Rapunzel, Red wordlessly hands her cloak over to her. She could tell the girl was starting to feel the chill, though she'd never mention in front of Elsa.

"Anyways. Without my cloak I had no way of suppressing the wolf at night so the way I saw it, I had two options: either isolate myself altogether and hope to God that when I had to shift my wolf never hurt anybody _or_ learn to control my wolf and not let it control me." Red raises her shoulders as she smirks to herself. "I chose the second option obviously."

Elsa glances back at the cloak Rapunzel was now wrapped up in. "So...how did you get your cloak back?"

Red follows her gaze for a second. "Eventually tracked down the guy who hijacked it. But it wasn't in the same condition as when I originally had it." she explains. "I sewed up the tears and patched up what I could but its magic hasn't been the same since. I mean it still works but not as well as it used to. If I get too worked up and let myself lose control, I can shift even with it on. But if I keep a level head and focus, I can keep the bitch at bay." She smirks.

Elsa's eyes are elsewhere, but she does nod.

"Anyways, my point is that even though I can still hurt people, I don't let that fear run my life. Yeah I get scared at times but I don't try and push it down and not feel it. I deal with it."

"Elsa," Red compels softly, forcing the blonde to meet her eyes. "Learning control is possible. It's not hopeless. You just have to trust yourself. Believe in yourself."

Elsa turns away with a shake her head. "It's not the same. You're not like me."

Red's brow furrows. "Actually I'm more like you than anyone else. I know what it feels like to be alone. Hell-" She looks over at Rapunzel and nods. "We both do."

"And I know what it's like to have to live a lie, to live with shame because of it." Red continues. "To have to constantly keep yourself in check. Living in fear of yourself - to have so much self-hatred that it threatens to destroy you - trust me when I say I've been there and done that."

Rapunzel scoots closer to Elsa, nodding slightly. "Isolating yourself isn't going to make things better, even if you're doing it for the right reasons."

Elsa glances down at her hands, then slowly begins shaking her head. She wants to believe the blonde's words but is ultimately unable to. It just isn't enough. "I deserve to be alone." Her voice is heavy with what Red thinks is staved-off tears.

"No you don't." Rapunzel insists firmly, clasping the girl's forearm. "No one does."

Elsa lifts her head and stares dejectedly at the wardrobe she'd destroyed. So much damage, and all she did was outstretch her hand. "I'm a danger to my people. And to Anna."

"You're not dangerous, Elsa. You're special, just like we are. And look you've already calmed down, that's a start."

Elsa's eyes fit across her bedroom. The blizzard had died down, yes, but the room was no less cold, no less frozen.

"You saw what happened with the Baron." she murmurs, glancing away from her hurricane of a room. "He was clearly trying to provoke me and I let him get the better of me. I'm not even close to done with meeting with dignitaries. Next time someone attacks me like that who knows what will happen."

"There won't be a next time." Rapunzel assures, reaching out and touching her shoulder. She's a little surprised that Elsa doesn't squirm away or tense up but also thankful. "We're here for you, Elsa."

The young queen doesn't understand it. "Why?"

"Because you're my family." Rapunzel replies, smiling that little half-smile that Red's come to find both soothing and encouraging. "And Red's my family which makes all us family in a way. And family takes care of each other."

Elsa's smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. A sign of hesitance.

"You don't trust us." Red's the one that states it aloud.

Elsa worries her lip, thinking she'd offended them. "In my defense I haven't known you two that long. And it wouldn't be the first time someone's come to Arendelle and lied about their intentions. I just..."

"It's okay." Rapunzel nods her head, smiling at her gently. "You'll come around soon enough."

Elsa can't help but smile a little at her confidence. "You sound so sure."

"Because I am." Rapunzel laughs. "I mean, _come on_. No one can resist these dimples." She points to her smiling cheeks. "Or those." She points to Red who flashes her own dimpled smile.

"We're so adorable, it hurts." Red agrees.

Elsa chuckles mildly in her lap, sniffling slightly.

"Well would you look at that, Red." Rapunzel gets up in Elsa's personal space, smirking knowingly. "I was right. The three of us _are_ meant to be besties. Look at those dimples." She lightly pokes the young queen's cheek. "She is one of us."

The blonde shies away from her touch, smiling softly, bashfully.

Red feels a bit of a flutter in her heart at the sight and broadens her grin. "So you _can_ smile." she teases, now resting back on her hands.

Embarrassed, Elsa wordlessly pulls her legs up to her chest and hides that cute little quirked mouth behind her knees.

It's so utterly adorable that Red can't quite suppress the laugh that bubbles out of her.

Once the moment passes, Rapunzel speaks up again. "Elsa, can I ask you a question?"

Elsa lifts her chin a little and rests it against her knee, her smile settling. She nods at her fellow blonde. "Go ahead."

Rapunzel looks over at her with slightly narrowed, inquisitive eyes. "Was Kristoff _really_ raised by trolls or is he just a little..."

The blonde raises her brow as she makes a circular motion around her head. "As Red would say, _loco en la cabeza?_"

Her spanish delivery is slow and so much like a white girl that while Red throws her head back and bursts out laughing, Elsa snorts an uncharacteristic laugh.

The three of them are completely oblivious to the ice that is slowly beginning to recede from the room.

—

Red exhales impatiently and shifts her arms to rest across her chest. Her back is resting against the wooden frame of the door.

"Seriously, how long does it take that girl to get dressed? Doesn't she like _make_ her own clothes?" She wiggles her fingers magically.

Rapunzel just rolls her eyes, smiling. She's standing in front of the wall opposite Red, rocking back and forth on her heels in an anticipatory manner. Pascal sits on her shoulder.

They both perk up when the sound of footsteps can be heard from within the room, coming closer. The door opens a fraction of a second later and Rapunzel whips around to stand right in front of the entryway, positively ecstatic.

Red can't help but snort a laugh when Elsa startles back, not expecting Rapunzel to be standing _right_ there.

"I thought I heard voices." the young queen says once she recovers. She looks to them both curiously. There's an awkward pause while she waits for one of them to explain themselves. When they don't, she asks the question herself. "...what are you two doing here?"

"Kidnapping you." Rapunzel enthuses, her smiling eyes big and bright -_and quite possibly completely unnerving to Elsa_, Red thinks with a small smile.

"Actually we're not _really_ kidnapping you." Rapunzel amends apologetically, hooking her arm around Elsa's. "Escorting - _borrowing_ - you really..."

Red pushes away from the wall and comes around to the blonde's other side. "No we're pretty much kidnapping you."

"We are what you'd call playing _hooky_ today." Rapunzel continues, interjecting before Elsa could properly speak. "Now before you say that you can't or that you're too busy, we checked with your peeps and they say you don't have any meetings with any fancy dignitaries scheduled today."

"T-that doesn't mean I don't have work to do." Elsa protests with a shake of her head. "I have to make sure the repairs on the castle are going accordingly, as well as the repairs on the ships that were damaged by the frost, I still have to figure out what we're going to do about all the crops lost during the freeze, and I have a stack of paperwork sitting on my desk that needs to be read over and signed before-"

"_For Christ's sake_." Red rolls her eyes dramatically. "Putting it off until tomorrow won't kill you. So relax."

Beside her, Rapunzel nods. "Yeah, it's not like we're taking you somewhere far away. We're just gonna go down to the village..."

"What?" Elsa does a doubletake between them, her eyes widening in horror. If she wasn't already against their plans, she was now. "No, no, no..."

"Why not?"

Elsa tugs her arms free from their hold. She turns around and stares at them pointedly. "Because," she near whispers. "There are _people_ there."

"No duh." Red laughs. Even though the girl was clearly terrified, she can't stop from finding her so utterly adorable right now.

Heh. _Was that bad?_

"C'mon." Rapunzel encourages, placing a guiding hand on her shoulder. "You've never been down the village before."

Elsa shakes her head, refusing to go regardless of that fact. She steps away from Rapunzel's touch. "I'll hurt someone."

Red rolls her eyes and sighs. "No you won't."

"You don't know that."

"Neither do you." she counters sharply, getting annoyed. "Look, how the hell do you expect things to get better - to _change_ - if you aren't willing to do anything about it? We're trying to help you here. We're not trying to make your life miserable."

"Yeah, we won't let anything bad happen." Rapunzel says, giving her a soft reassuring smile.

"You can't promise that."

"Elsa," Rapunzel steps closer to her. "When I promise something, I never _ever_ break that promise." Normally in this kind of situation she'd take the person's hand to emphasize that truth, but with Elsa anxious enough as it is, she opts to keep her hands to herself. "And I promise you that you are going to be just fine. Nothing bad is going to happen to you or to anyone else."

Elsa seems to consider this and for a moment almost looks convinced...until that inevitable self-doubt slithers back in. "But what if-"

Red can't take any more of this. "Elsa, I say this with love but - _shut up_. Seriously. We're going. End of story."

Elsa's gaze hardens at her tone. Her back straightens. She looks a lot more like a queen now and less like an insecure little girl.

Red would be lying if she said she wasn't a _teensy_ bit intimidated (but no one needs to know that).

"If you think I'm just going to allow you to boss me around-"

"I'll buy you chocolate."

Red smirks triumphantly when Elsa stops short. "Well then...that's just..." The blonde shifts and regards her with disinterest, trying to play it cool. "A kind offer but I will not ignore my good judgment and buy into your bribes." She tells her with an upturned chin.

Red isn't buying it. Neither is Rapunzel.

"_Yes you will_." they both say to her, after exchanging knowing glances with each other.

Without another word they link arms with Elsa, taking her captive once more, and continue on their way.

—

"I can't do this."

Red rolls her eyes, exasperated. _God help her_.

"Yes you can." Rapunzel encourages kindly.

Red merely shakes her head and stares, because really this whole situation is bringing back some serious flashbacks to when Rapunzel pulled this _same_ crap on her. Back when they first met and Rapunzel forced her into taking her to see those damn floating lanterns. Blondie had spent the entire first half of their journey alternating between relishing in her freedom and wallowing in crushing guilt for betraying her 'mother'.

Much like Elsa was doing now. This going back and forth - being calm one moment, then freaking out the next.

She wants to punch whichever ancestor it was who passed down this nutsy-cuckoo trait to them in the face _so hard _right now.

"Elsa if you keep this up you're going in the goddamn lake." she warns, _so_ over this already.

"_Fjord_." Rapunzel quietly corrects.

"Gesundheit."

Elsa shakes her head and continues to pace along the bridge just outside of the village.

"They're going recognize me and then they're going to want to approach me, and ask questions and want answers..." Elsa wringes her hands nervously, almost like she's trying to take them off. "Everyone will stare at me."

"Well you are the _queen_." Red sighs, trying not to let her temper get the better of her. "Of course they're gonna stare."

"Well if you don't want people to stare at you, then maybe you should go in a disguise." Rapunzel suggests simply enough. "That way people won't recognize you and will leave you alone."

"How?"

Red's gaze fits down Elsa's body and back up again. She's so unintentionally gorgeous it hurts. Or maybe that's the empty stomach she's feeling.

Either way Elsa looks every bit the part of the royal she doesn't want people to notice.

"First we should probably find you a dress that's a little less...conspicuous."

"Less ice queen-y and more village casual." Rapunzel agrees. "And you should let your hair down. Literally."

"I can't wear my hair down in public." Elsa says, aghast. "It's improper."

Red scoffs outright. "Says who? You're the fucking _queen_. You can do whatever the hell you want."

Elsa doesn't look convinced.

"I doubt anyone will recognize you with your hair down." Rapunzel offers, making Elsa purse her lips hesitantly.

After a few seconds of silent deliberation, Elsa bites. "Okay, fine." Before she can second guess herself, she takes her hair down and shakes it out of its braid.

And here Red thought she couldn't get any more beautiful. Seriously. How is that even possible?

"Well?" Elsa shifts self-consciously, unable to gauge their reactions and not liking their silence.

"You look fine." Rapunzel nods, smiling.

"_Fine_ is a bit of an understatemement." Red murmurs, eyes trained on the beautiful blonde.

Crap. Did she say that outloud?

Evidently so by the way Rapunzel looks at her, knowing smile and all. Blondie's _so_ gonna tease her about this later.

She scowls at the thought.

"Anyways," Rapunzel picks her satchel off the ground and shoulders it. "I'll go into the village and find a dress for you, Elsa."

"That's really not necessary...I have plenty of dresses back in-"

Red shakes her head. "We are _not_ going back to the castle." she interjects, her arms firmly crossed. "No way."

It took them _this_ long just to get Elsa out here. No way she's doing through that again.

"Just find a dress shop and pick out the first thing you see in her size." she instructs Rapunzel, who nods dutifully.

"I'll be back before you can _snuggly duckling_."

Red playfully rolls her eyes at her. "Okay." she smiles. "Just try not to get too distracted."

Rapunzel scoffs indignantly and begins back pedaling away from them. "Since when do I get distracted? _Never_, that's when."

In the same instant Rapunzel whips around to leave, Red throws out her hand in warning. "Rapunzel watch out for the-"

Her words fall flat when Rapunzel walks right into the horse of one of the palace guards. "...horse."

"Whoops." Rapunzel spins out of its way. "Sorry." she giggles, smiling apologetically.

Both Elsa and Red shake their heads.

"It astounds me just how alike her and Anna are." Elsa comments, staring after the girl.

"Yeah, well..." Red turns back around and shrugs. "I guess that's what isolation does to ya."

Keeping that thought in mind as she glances at Elsa, then at the bridge's railing, then back at her again, Red walks up to the young queen and gently guides her away from the edge.

Elsa stares at her questioningly.

"What? You three bozos are related. I turn my back for a second and you might fall off the damn bridge."

Elsa narrows her eyes, then punches Red's arm. Hard.

"Damn bitch." she swears. She skirts away, out of reach, and tenderly rubs her arm. "Who knew you could hit. Ow."

Elsa releases a small huff, pushing back a stray hair back out of her face. "You are by far the most ill-mannered person I've ever met."

Red scowls. "What? Bitch is a term of endearment for me."

"A bitch is a female dog. Which technically is what _you_ are." Elsa's lips give way to a little smirk.

Red's scowl morphs into a full on glare. "I'm a fucking wolf." she growls, playfully pushing the blonde aside. "There's a difference."

"FREEZE!"

Red barely has time to turn her head before she finds herself suddenly surrounded by several of Arendelle's guards, their weapons all pointing right at her.

Woah, woah, woah...what the hell?

Apparently they'd seen the whole thing. Note to self: don't push queens around - even jokingly - in public.

While staring her down, one of the guards inquires to Elsa - who he'd pushed behind him - over his shoulder. "Is this miscreant bothering you, your Majesty?"

_Miscr-what?_

Red scowls deeply. "Get that thing out of my face." She pushes one of the guard's sword away from her nose.

Then to herself, mutters, "Huh. Never thought I'd ever have to say those words again."

Anyways.

The guards are still waiting on orders from Elsa. "Your Majesty?" one questions, turning around.

Red peers over his shoulder to find Elsa doing her very best to suppress her less-than-queenly giggles behind her hand. As a result a small snort escapes, making her laugh even harder.

It's the first time she's ever heard Elsa laugh. Like really laugh. And Red's pretty sure she's never heard a greater sound in her life. Or seen a greater sight, for that matter.

Cause seriously.

So. Freaking. Charming.

—

_Hot damn._

Red's eyes fit to the sky, then close in ecsatsy as she chews through her mouthful, savoring every second of it.

When she swallows, her eyes flutter open. She's just about to devour the rest of her pastry whole when she notices Elsa staring at her.

Red pulls back and self-consciously wipes the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. "What? I like bread, alright?"

"That much is evident." Elsa concurs, picking up and offering a napkin to her.

Eyes rolling, Red grudgingly plucks the item from her grasp. "Thanks."

Elsa might have gotten a kick out of her near arrest but that moment had long past and the young queen was back to being her usual reserved self. And sure while that side of her was the one Red was more accustomed to, that didn't mean it was the one she favored.

As they're sitting here outside the bakery, Red can't help but notice that even when she's 'dressed down' and incognitio, Elsa still manages to look ethereal. And it's just not right. Not right that someone can be so goddamn beautiful on the outside yet be so heartbreakingly troubled on the inside.

Granted right now there was a newfound serenity to her that hadn't been there before. Red accredited that to Elsa being able to see in person how happy her people were, how content they were with their lives.

But even then that wasn't enough to keep her lingering insecurites at bay. The internal struggle was still there. To anyone else it would not look as though so, but Red knew better. She could could see the apprehension, feel the girl's unease rolling off her in waves.

Everytime someone did a double take at her when they passed by, even though Elsa would cover it up with a polite trained smile, Red could sense the girl's silent panic then subsequent relief when they kept walking.

To say the least Elsa was good at belying her true feelings...just not good enough to fool Red.

Staring at the girl in question, Red now sees a muted sadness, a longing, reflected in Elsa's eyes. Curiously, Red glances over her shoulder to see what it was she was watching.

Two little girls, sisters presumably, playing and giggling not so quietly while their mother shopped for groceries. Both were undeniably adorable and having an absolute ball together.

When Red turns back around Elsa's gaze is flickering away, trying to focus on something - _anything_ - that will distact herself from the scene. But it's too late. The sight had already struck a chord with her. One she'd rather not revisit.

Red can see the frost creeping out from under her fingertips, coating the sides of the cup she was currently holding.

"Elsa. Hey." She gently coaxes the girl from her reverie. "Take it easy."

Elsa blinks. Then when it registers, her eyes shut briefly. With a deep breath she releases the cup and drops her hands to her lap.

"You're going to be fine." Red continues as further assurance.

"You hardly know me and yet you have so much faith in me." Elsa murmurs, lifting her gaze to stare at her questioningly. "Why is that?"

"Because you're a lot stronger than you think you are." Red says easily, shrugging slightly. "Anyone with eyes can see that. Me, your sister, Rapunzel...we all see it. You will too, eventually. But in the meantime..."

She lightly kicks Elsa under the table making her jump a little. "Knock it off." Elsa thinks she can't see what she's doing underneath the table but she totally can. "Keep wringing your hands like that and you're gonna eventually freeze off a finger."

Elsa shakes her head at herself and clasps the edge of the table. "I can't help it."

She can tell Elsa hates it just as much as she does. The blonde takes a deep breath. "I just...I _shouldn't_ be here."

She glances around, eyeing in particular the young children running about. Across the way Rapunzel was getting her hair braided by a group of little girls.

"There are a lot of people...if something were to happen..."

Red would totally chuck the rest of her pastry at Elsa's annoyingly pretty face if she didn't care about wasting food.

"Seriously?" Red almost rolls her eyes. "Quit second-guessing yourself. You have a hell of a lot more control than you give yourself credit for. You're fine."

Wordlessly, Elsa tips her mug forward to show her the inside of it. Her hot chocolate was now, well...frozen solid.

Red waves it off. "You're doing great." she says regardless. "So relax already, would you? Nothing's gonna happen."

Elsa worries her bottom lip unsurely. "You should have at least let me bring my gloves."

"Sorry princess, but you're in the middle of the weaning process." Red shrugs nonapologetically. "Besides it's the middle of summer. Too fucking hot for that."

"Oh so I can't have my gloves but you can have your cloak?" Elsa inquires sharply, gesturing to the red garb draped over the back of her chair. "I thought you didn't even need it."

"_I don't_." Red glowers. "But I'm not leaving it in the castle." she scoffs. "No offense but I don't trust your staff or your sister. They're all a bit sketchy. Hell for all I know they're be a bunch of kleptos."

"That's ridiculous."

"Ridiculously accurate." She corrects with a sly grin. She eyes the blonde's half-eaten chocolate croissant and raises her brow pointedly. "Are you going to finish that thing?"

"Yes." Elsa frowns, protectively pulling it closer to her.

Red shrugs uncaringly. "Doesn't look that good anyways." she sniffs, picking up the rest of her own pastry.

She just about has it up to her lips when out of thin air it's snatched out of her hand.

"What the-"

"_Sharing is caring_, Red." Rapunzel grins, coming around and plopping herself down at their table. Shoving the sweet bread in her mouth, she asks through full lips, "So what are we talking about?", though it sounds more like, "whawelkingbout?"

Elsa slowly rises from her seat. "I think it's time for me to return to the castle." As she stands she smoothes down her skirt. "This has been...fun."

_Uncomfortable_ would have been a more accurate description. "But I still have much work to get done, duties that cannot be detained any longer..."

"Slow your roll, snowflake." Rapunzel stands to stop her. "You're not getting out of this that easily."

Elsa's eyes are pleading. "Rapunzel, _please_."

Rapunzel skips around the table and sidles up beside her cousin. "Obviously this is a little much for you. Too much." She links her arm with Elsa's, then suggests. "So why don't we go somewhere where _you're_ comfortable?"

"Somewhere that isn't the castle." Red throws in.

Rapunzel nods. "Or on the castle grounds."

Seconds pass before Elsa finally responds.

"Well," she starts hesitantly, unsure of whether she should even divulge what she's about to. "I've only ever _really_ felt comfortable in one place..."

—

You'd think a werewolf who has a best friend with magical growing hair and a kinda, sort of, friendship with a literal ice queen would be okay with just about anything that say, any normal person would be weird about.

And she is (good with weird, that is).

Most of the time.

_Almost always_, really.

...

Now is just not one of those times.

But, hey, it's not her fault her knee jerk reaction to seeing a magical talking blob of snow is to kick his weird little head off.

It's just not, alright?

"What the hell!?" Red rears back. Then, with a quick sideglance, yanks Rapunzel in front of her. She peers out from behind her shoulder, eyeing the headless body flailing around in front of them. "What is that thing?"

Elsa stares at her in disbelief. "A snowman. What else would he be?"

Once she retrieves Olaf's head for him, she sets it back in place.

Red pulls a face as the little guy mentions something about girls doing that to him a lot. "That is one seriously effed up looking-"

Rapunzel jabs her ribs. Hard. Then turns around to stare at Red quizzically. "What do you think she meant when she asked us if we wanted to meet her snowman?"

"A weird innuendo? _I don't know_."

"What's an innuendo?" Olaf wonders, his brow furrowed up at her.

It's the first time he's made eye contact with her since that whole 'I'm Olaf and I like warm hugs' intro.

"What about Anna?" Rapunzel inquires, still addressing her. "Our first night here she told us all about him."

Red snorts, nearly rolling her eyes.

"Like I follow every little thing she says. _C'mon_." She glances at Elsa semi - but not really - apologetically. "No offense but your little sister rambles like no one I've ever met. She says like twenty different things in one breath. Every time she opens her mouth I get a headache. For my own health I have to tune her out."

Elsa smoothes down her dress before addressing her in an even tone. "While I am well aware of Anna's excessive chattering, I'd appreciate it if you didn't insult my sister in front of me."

The flash of warning in those darkened hazel eyes was not to be missed.

It was both incredibly terrifying and inexplicably alluring.

"Technically though I wasn't insulting her." Red points out, her lips drawn up in a smirk.

"If you need to start your statement with _no offense_ then the words that follow are almost always meant to be insulting."

Red rolls her eyes. When they finish their rotation, her gaze unwittingly lands on Olaf who was still staring at her.

She's reacting before she can think twice about it. "Quit staring at me you little-"

"Red, I will throw you out if you continue to insult my loved ones." Elsa advises in that calmly regal tone of hers.

Even when she's dressed in a simple blue dress, with her hair down and only a section of it pulled back and braided (and seriously what these people have with braids Red will never understand), Elsa looks just as intimidating as she does in her formal dresses.

"Aw!" Olaf claps his little hands together excitely, wearing a silly grin as he goes in to hug his creator. "Elsa called me her _loved one_."

As the snowman wraps his stick arms around her leg, Elsa's expression softens. She leans down to better accomodate his gentle hug.

When the embrace ends and Elsa straightens, she turns to Red expectantly. She gestures to Olaf. "Now apologize to him."

Red heaves a sigh, resisting the urge to roll her eyes again. She casts a glance at the snowman whose goofy smile was admittedly hard to deny. "Sorry, Oleg."

"_Olaf_."

"Whatever."

Elsa shakes her head, exasperated but satisfied enough, before reverting her attention. "Olaf, why don't you go check up on Marshmallow for me?"

The snowman looks confused. "But I was just with him..."

He'd been visiting Marshmallow, Elsa's _other_ snowman and Olaf's so-called _brother from the same mother_, when the three of them reached her ice palace here on the North Mountain.

"Please, Olaf. Keep him company for me?" Elsa politely requests. "While I show the girls the rest of the palace?"

Olaf looks skeptical about leaving his creator alone. "But are you sure you'll be okay?" he whispers to her through the side of his mouth, staring over at Red and Rapunzel warily.

He raises his little stick hand to cover his next words. "Those two look a little nuts."

Elsa smiles faintly, lightly shaking her head. "Run along Olaf." she beckons. "Please and thank you."

Olaf nods compliantly. As he totters from the room, he waves over his shoulder at her. "Bye mom!"

Elsa's eyes shut briefly, ducking her head as she clasps her hand over one cheek, looking very much like an embarrassed parent.

"I've asked him to stop calling me that."

Rapunzel, who was back to taking in the inside of the palace, frowns. "Why?" She tears her gaze away from the frozen ice fountain. "You technically are his mother, having giving him life after all." She smiles fondly. "I think it's sweet."

"I think it's weird." Red murmurs, earning a scowl from her best friend.

Elsa clears her throat uncomfortably. "Anyways." She lifts her gaze and with some hesitance, asks, "So should we continue with our tour?"

—

"This is the best day EVER!"

Red grins up at Rapunzel who was hanging upside down from the ceiling like some kind of spider monkey. She'd taken her hair out of its braid and had it out to its full length now, using it to swing about Elsa's ice palace much like she used to do in her tower.

While Red was sitting on the floor, leaning back on her hands, and enjoying the sight, Elsa on the other hand was standing and looking very concerned for her safety.

"Does she _always_ do that?"

"This place is so cool." Rapunzel thrills, swinging back and forth. She giggles at her own pun. "Literally!"

Red playfully rolls her eyes at the blonde. "Dork."

While her gaze is fixated upward Red takes another moment to admire the grand chandelier above their heads. They occupied the second floor now, the 'heart' of the palace as Elsa called it.

"Blondie's right. This place is pretty fucking spectacular."

Her gaze drops enough to see the modest blush creep onto Elsa's cheeks.

The young queen's sheepish smile fades when she looks back up at Rapunzel. Unconsciously she starts to wring her hands again.

Seeing this, Red tilts her head back to the other blonde above. "Hey Blondie, take a breather and come back to Earth, would ya? You're making the snowflake uneasy."

She just smirks when Elsa's gaze snaps toward her, probably because of the nickname.

Rapunzel complies easily enough and jumps down, then starts dancing around the room just for the hell of it.

But that does little to ease Elsa's discomfort, as evident by her still wringing hands. Although as soon as she catches herself, she promptly stops.

"Are you sure this is okay?" She turns to Red first, then glances between her and Rapunzel anxiously. "I mean aren't you two cold here?"

Rapunzel shakes her head. "I'm good." she says, moving across the floor to music apparently no one else can hear.

She looked absolutely ridiculous. Though not because of the dancing. Because of what she was wearing.

Before they came up the mountain, Rapunzel had basically borrowed one item from every one of her friends. On top of the winter coat she'd borrowed from Anna, Rapunzel was also wearing Red's cloak, and then for accessories wore Elsa's gloves (which they'd eventually found under her bed) and Kristoff's dorky little snow cap.

In short, nothing she was wearing matched. Like at all.

Red smiles at that fact. "I'm fine." she says in response to Elsa's question.

"How can you be?" Elsa stares in disbelief as Red leans back further, then lies down completely on the floor. "You're not wearing anything to keep you warm. Not even a scarf."

Red smirks up at the ceiling and sighs before propping herself back up. "Wanna know why? Come here." She beckons to Elsa who hesitantly moves closer.

Red rolls her eyes and sits upright.

She grabs the blonde's unsuspecting hand and yanks her down until she was sitting right in front of her. "Here's why."

She places Elsa's hand over her forehead.

The other girl's eyes widen. "You're hot."

"Why yes I am." Red grins, waggling one eyebrow.

Red lowers their hands when Elsa blushes but keeps her hand over hers. She doesn't do it purposefully, in fact it barely registers.

Elsa shakes her head. "No I mean your body temperature is usually high." she clarifies, staring at her with concern. "I've never realized it before. Are you sure you're not coming down with something?"

"No, it's just a wolf thing." Red assures, trying not to get too distracted by the blonde's devastatingly pretty eyes. On land Elsa's eyes are a clear hazel green, but up here in her ice palace domain they've transformed into a cool greenish blue hue.

"We run hot all the time." she hears herself continue, some part of her wanting to cover up her blatant staring.

Elsa nods, accepting the explanation. After a minute her gaze shifts to their hands. Her eyes widen.

Elsa takes back her hand like she'd just been shocked. "Sorry." she quickly apologizes, scooting away from Red. "I'm like ice, I know." She clasps her hands self-consciously. "There's nothing I can do about it. I've tried."

Red wants to retake her hand, just to assure her it was fine, but she has the feeling it might have the opposite effect on the blonde. "Speaking as someone who always feels like she's overheating, I can honestly say it doesn't bother me." Red says instead. "It feels nice actually." She's not afraid to admit it. "You're cool but like _good_ cool, you know? Like refreshing."

Elsa smiles softly for a moment, but allows it to fade as she draws her legs underneath her. "Anna shivers when I hug her for too long." she reveals with a small sad sigh. "But I know she can't help it. It's not her fault her sister's practically made of ice."

Rapunzel slides over to them, then ungracefully plops herself down next to Red. "Well it's a good thing Red's warmer than a marshmallow on an open flame." She nudges her friend's shoulder teasingly. "Also gooier."

Red shifts away, embarrassed. "_Rapunzel_." she groans.

Another small smile graces Elsa's features as she meets Red's gaze. "And here I thought you couldn't blush."

There's a twinkle to those smiling eyes that makes Red want to grin stupidly. But fortunately she's able to cover it up with a glower before any kind of dorky smile peaks through.

"I can't." Red maintains, her eyes narrowed. "This is just a rash that flares up every time I'm uncomfortable."

Beside her Rapunzel snorts.

"I've never brought anyone up here before." Elsa confesses on impulse when there's a momentary silence.

She looks up but doesn't quite meet their eyes. "I mean my sister's been here but she wasn't exactly invited." She grimaces at whatever memory that incident triggers. "I had to throw her and Kristoff out."

"So what exactly happened with you two? You and Anna." Red questions, leaning back on her hands again. "We want details."

Elsa's mouth opens just a tiny bit in suprise. "I-"

Rapunzel not so discreetly nudges her side.

"What?" Red scowls back at her, annoyed. "It's true. Besides how else are we gonna help her get past all her issues if we don't know the whole story, huh?"

Her gaze returns to Elsa expectantly. "So?"

"Well I..." Elsa hesitates for the longest time. She wants to do this - Red can see it in her eyes - she just needs a little encouragement.

So Red extends her leg and lightly nudges the blonde's foot with her own, prompting Elsa to meet her gaze.

"Remember you're talking to a girl who turns into a wolf and a girl who has magically growing hair." she says with a gentle, reassuring smile.

"We won't judge."

"Promise." Rapunzel reaffirms.

"Okay."

Elsa starts again and this time her words don't falter. She tells them everything, starting with her childhood and detailing all the moments, even the painful ones, that built up to now.

By the end of it they're all lying flat on their backs, side by side (by side), staring silently up at the grand ice chandelier directly above them.

Red remembers isolation well. Remembers that pang of longing she got every time she watched the other village kids play with each other while she was stuck by herself doing chores. The simmering resentment that built toward her grandmother because of it.

Those early years, her pre-cloak years as she liked to call them, they were lonely but it wasn't the same kind of lonely Elsa had been. She didn't lock herself up in her room for ten years and deny herself human contact. She would have sooner drowned herself in the river before ever inflicting that kind of punishment on herself.

But she understood why Elsa subjected herself to that kind of existence. Maybe if she herself had a sibling like Elsa did Anna, she would think twice about isolating herself that way, but...

Red turns away from those thoughts. She doesn't even want to think about what it'd be like to put herself in either one of their shoes.

After all they both had it pretty rough growing up. Red doesn't know which would be worse: being shut out by your sister/best friend and for years believing it'd been because of something you'd done like Anna or having to push people away and live an isolated existence filled with so much fear and guilt like Elsa.

Rapunzel's the first to break the silence.

Turning her head, she glances at Elsa out of the corner of her eye. "Feel better?"

Red looks over in time to see Elsa duck her head in a nod. "Yeah." Sniffling slightly, she wipes at her misty eyes with one hand. "A little."

There's another moment's pause before Red sees a bare hint of a smile poke through the blonde's features. "Although now I feel as though the scales are a little unbalanced..." she brings up in attempt to lighten the mood (and to get away from talking more about herself).

"Unbalanced?" Rapunzel's brow furrows, not quite understanding. "What do you mean?"

"Considering you two just got my entire life story just now, I feel like it's only fair that you at least tell me something I don't already know about you." Elsa explains.

"Okay." Rapunzel nods, agreeing with that logic. She waits a good long second before answering.

"Well...kissing my armpits is a really big turn-on for me."

Red splutters out a laugh at that brillant deadpan delievery.

"What? You said tell you something you didn't know."

"Even I didn't know that." Red has to admit.

"Just - how did you come to figure that out exactly?" Elsa tentatively questions. A regretful hand comes up the second she hears her words aloud. "Nevermind." she decides against, shaking her head. "I'd rather not know."

Elsa pushes herself upright and glances back at her. "What about you, Red?"

Red would so answer if that one simple look hadn't suddenly rendered her completely incapable of processing human speech.

"I can think of something Red hasn't mentioned." Rapunzel brings up slyly, flashing Red a knowing smirk as she sits up.

For once Red has no idea what she's talking about. "What?" she frowns, also sitting upright. Not even a second passes before it dawns on her.

"Oh." She can feel a deep grimace pull down her mouth. "_That_."

Rapunzel grins. "Yes, _that_." She indicates to Elsa. "Tell her."

Red stares at her like she's lost her mind. Which she has. "No way."

Elsa looks between them both very confused. "Tell me what?"

"Just ask her what her _real_ name is."

Red's eyes are glaring daggers when Elsa rounds on her. "You told me it _was_ Red!" she exclaims quite indignantly.

"It is!" she maintains, still scowling furiously at Rapunzel.

"Is not!" Rapunzel laughs scoffingly. Then threatens lightheartedly, "Tell her Red or _I_ will."

Red huffs, growing slightly under her breath, though acquiescing to her best friend's request. "Okay fine."

She lowers her voice to one that's barely discernible. "It's Ruby."

Elsa leans forward. "Come again?"

She repeats the cursed name through gritted teeth. "Ruby. My fucking name is _Ruby_."

Elsa tilts her head, regarding her thoughtfully. "If you don't mind my saying..." The amused smile that spreads across her cheeks is almost worth the embarrassment, Red thinks. "But you don't look like a Ruby."

Red nods appreciatively. "_Exactly_, thank you!" She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. "I don't know what my parents were thinkng. It's like the worst name ever."

Elsa's eyes soften. "Even worse than _Elsa_?" she smiles, reminding Red of how she had basically insulted her name the first time they ever met.

"Yeah." A slight curve finds its way across her lips. "But not by much." she adds, making Elsa laugh shortly.

Her brow drops when the amusement subsides though. "But seriously."

She points her finger sternly, eyeing them both even though she'd technically already sworn Rapunzel to secrecy.

"That name never leaves this room, alright? Cause if it does, I will fucking _end_ you."

Rapunzel shakes her head at her, then leans into Elsa to clarify. "What she really means is she'll get all pouty and grumbly and mumble in Spanish. She may be a wolf but her personality is actually more grumpy puppy than Big Bad." she informs, sharing a smirk with Elsa.

Red's expression flatens. "_Thanks_, Blondie. Thanks a lot."

Rapunzel's smile is as innocent as her shrug. "Just keepin' it real, Red."

—

It's nearing sunset when they return to the castle.

Red had wished they'd stayed up in the North Mountain long enough to see it from those heights - it probably would have been one hell of a view - but Elsa had wanted to get back before Anna started to worry.

Or so she said. Red thinks she just wanted to make sure her kingdom hadn't fallen to ruin while she was out. And with Anna left in charge, the chances of that happening are _pretty_ high.

"So, how long do you think you two will stay in Arendelle?"

They're walking down one of the corridors when Elsa decides to speak up. It did not go unnoticed by either Red or Rapunzel how much quieter she'd gotten since leaving her ice palace, but they figured that was her slipping back into 'queen mode'. Before they'd reached the castle gates, she'd conjured up a more befitting dress and returned her hair to its usual updo.

"For as long as you'll have us." Rapunzel answers, smiling happily at her.

"Just keep that little Olaf dude...child...away from me." Red feels the need to add.

"What do you have against him?" Elsa wonders, bemused by her strong dislike of him.

Red wrinkles her nose, automatically pulling a face. "He's weird." She glances back at Elsa, her brow raised. "You couldn't have made a more normal looking snowman?"

"I was seven when I created him." she defends indignantly. "What do you expect?"

"That's no excuse." she scoffs, grinning at Elsa's growing frown. "You roll three balls of snow together and stack them on top of each other. How hard is that?" she teases.

Rapunzel intervenes before Elsa can respond. "The reason she doesn't like Olaf is the same reason she doesn't like Pascal or Maximus - because she doesn't like competition."

Elsa's brow furrows. "Competition for what?"

"Our affections." Rapunzel answers smugly.

Red's eyes widen. Her cheeks flare up from absolute mortification. "That's - I - _do not_!"

Rapunzel nods, confirming it so. "She's highly territorial when it comes to her blondes." she continues, grinning broadly.

Elsa turns and raises her brow at her. "Oh?"

Red's eyes fit the ceiling. Lord help her.

Strike her down.

_Anything_.

If people could actually die of embarrassment she would have keeled over ten paces ago.

"Yeah. It got to the point where she even tried to eat Pascal once."

"It was a _joke_! I wasn't really gonna do it!"

Rapunzel just shakes her head and keeps walking. "Uh-huh."

—

Later, after dinner when Elsa finally departs from them to spend the rest of the evening with her sister, Red turns and slugs Rapunzel in the arm. They're alone walking back to their bedrooms so no one's around to see it.

"Ow!" Blondie draws back, wincing a frown. "What was that for?"

"Embarrassing me in front of Elsa." she growls. "What else would it be for?"

"Your steak wasn't rare enough and you're just taking it out on me?" Rapunzel suggests, unable to help laughing in spite of the pain. "You're _still_ pouting about that?"

"No. Shut up."

Rapunzel's smile widens. "You _so_ like her."

Red keeps walking, trying valiantly not to smile stupidly like she wants. "Yeah so do you."

Rapunzel rolls her eyes briefly, skipping a little as she follows her.

"I mean you really like her. Like," She waggles her eyebrow suggestively. "_Like her_, like her."

Red shrugs uncomfortably. "Maybe."

"Maybe." Rapunzel repeats, glancing over at her knowingly. "That means you like her _a lot_."

Red rolls her eyes again, humoring her. "Whatever you say, Blondie."

"You're not denying." she sing-songs, poking her side teasingly.

"So? That doesn't mean anything."

"Au contraire, little wolf. That means everything."

Rapunzel throws one arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "Just remember, she's family so if you break her heart I'm obligated to kick your ass."

Red scoffs at her, more offended than intimidated. "You said I was a part of your family."

"You are." she assures, squeezing her shoulders. "Okay, how about this? If she breaks your heart, then I'll kick _her_ ass. But of course if you two end up breaking each other's hearts then-"

"Let me guess, then you'd bring out the frying pan, right?"

Rapunzel stares at her in amazement. "I swear Red sometimes it's like we are of one mind."

She nods, wholeheartedly agreeing. They were scary connected like that. "Must be all the pinky-linking we do."

"Probably." Rapunzel agrees. Her arm drops from her shoulder. "So what should we do now? It's still early and I'm not tired enough to go to bed."

"We could go back to the village and find the pub." Red suggests, catching a glimpse of the village through one of the windows.

After the long day she's had, she could totally do with some beer.

"Great idea!" Rapunzel claps her hands excitedly. "You know I love me some ruffians and thugs."

"Just don't go bringing up dreams again." Red pleads to her, thinking of their last pub experience and how _that_ ended, as Rapunzel proceeds to drag her away.

"Cause I so cannot deal with another impromptu group sing-along."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: If I didn't completely butcher this chapter and I still have you readers wanting me to continue, then SWEET I'll do just that. If not, I'll leave it at this.<strong>

**Also - the intended pairing, it's kind of obvious what I have in mind should I continue. I mean, Quick and Brittana are my OTPs for sure, but guys...good god. The Quinntana feels...they're just too strong. I've kind of been obsessing about them lately and I just can't resist...**

**And as for those who want a continuation, if you have any suggestions or hell even requests on what the other glee character's fairy tale counterparts should be, feel free to let me know. I need some ideas thrown around, lol.**

**ANYWAYS.**

**Thanks for reading, and be sure to drop a review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Wow, I'm glad you all are liking the story so much! Those reviews on the last chapter were all kinds of sweet and awesome. We're back in Storybrooke for this chapter - I haven't decided how long I'm going to going to do this back and forth thing with the chapters, but for now it's working out, so yeah. **

**Anyways, this time I give a few subtle hints as to who the New Directions' fairytale counterparts are. All the fairy tales from which their characters come from have all been made into Disney animated films or shorts at some point, that's my hint. It's not that great a one considering just about everything been's disneyfied, but I don't want to give it away. **

**Anyways, read. enjoy. review!**

* * *

><p>When Monday mornings come around Santana usually drags her feet when walking to school, in attempt to delay those inevitably mundane eight hours that would soon follow, but in winter it's completely a different story.<p>

She can never get to school fast enough.

Actually, that's a lie. She probably could if she like sprinted, but like hell she was gonna be known as _that_ girl. The one who fucking runs to school like Forrest Gump each morning.

Hurrying across the street but mindful of the sometimes slippery pavement, Santana quickly heads over to the school's main entrance. She'd like to get inside before her coffee ices over on her.

She stops short of her destination, however, when she recognizes Quinn sitting on one of the benches just outside the building with a book in her lap.

Santana can't help but shake her head at the sight, because really it _is_ fucking cold out here and yet Quinn's kicking back like it's nothing. But then Santana remembers this is _Little Miss_ '_the cold never bothered me anyway'_ they were talking about and lets her disbelief subside.

Santana approaches the unsuspecting blonde without a second thought. "Sup, Q-Tip." she greets, prompting Quinn to lift her gaze and stare questionably at her.

Santana just shrugs. "What can I say, I think of you when I clean out my ears."

Wait. What?

In her defense, it's _really_ fucking early.

Too early for her to be making conversation, apparently.

"Thank...you?" Quinn says, unsurely. Was that even a compliment to begin with?

Santana looks away for a second, embarrased to say the least, then sits down next to Quinn even though she'd much rather go inside and _not_ freeze her tits off out here.

"So have a good weekend?" Quinn starts conversationally, closing her book and tucking it away in her bag.

"It was alright." she says indifferently, too slow to catch a glimpse of Quinn's book title. "Worked and slept through most of it."

"You certainly are a hard worker."

Santana shrugs off the compliment, choosing to stare out into the distance where the sun was just starting to peek out above the town. "Have to be. It's the only way I'll ever get out of this dump." But she'd rather not talk about that. Especially now when she's sleep deprived and more likely to reveal something too personal without realizing it.

"Anyways." Santana turns around behind her and plucks a coffee cup out of the tray she'd brought along with her. "Here. Brought you something to warm you up." She passes the to-go cup over to Quinn. "One chamomile tea."

Something akin to surprise flickers across Quinn's features. Her brow furrows accordingly. "How do you-?"

"It's all you ever order at Abuela's." Santana responds easily enough, watching as she takes the cup. "Though I don't see why, I've tried that stuff and it's nasty as fuck."

Quinn smiles briefly before explaining, "It's supposed to help with anxiety and insomnia."

Santana reaches back for her own drink without taking her eyes off the blonde. She frowns. "Having stress dreams or something?"

"Something like that." Quinn answers vaguely, bringing her cup up to her lips and taking an experimental sip. "Anyways I've found that this helps calm me."

Santana studies her for a moment. Now that she mentioned it, Quinn did look a little tired around the eyes.

Santana feels her lips part, ready to ask for clarification on that, but closes her mouth in the same instance. She doesn't want to pry and make Quinn uncomfortable.

If Quinn wanted to talk about it, she'd do so of her own volition.

"Yeah, I've been having weird dreams too lately." Santana says instead, because it was true. But she shakes her head to herself, not wanting to get into that either. "I gotta stop eating before bed."

Out of the corner of her eye she can feel Quinn staring at her while drinks her coffee. "Let me guess. Black coffee with two and a half packets of sugar."

Santana lowers her cup and raises her eyebrows at the blonde, mildly impressed.

"You're not the only one who's observant." Quinn shrugs.

Santana can tell she's trying not to smile, even when those pink - and somehow not in least bit chapped - lips disappear behind the rim of her cup to take another sip.

As a result Santana finds herself trying to ignore the fluttery feeling suddenly in the pit of her stomach. "I don't know if that's a good thing or bad." she chuckles, albeit awkwardly.

She gulps down more of her coffee, hoping it would help wash away the sensation.

"I brought Britts a hot chocolate but who knows if she'll make it on time." she brings up, if only to distract herself. Santana glances between both sides of the street for any sight of the blonde, then back at the lone cup still in the holder. "She might just end up getting some nice cold chocolate milk instead."

"We should probably get inside then." Quinn rises from her seat, tea in hand, after glancing at her cell phone.

_Thank God_. Relieved, Santana pushes herself to her feet and gladly follows the blonde toward the front entrance.

"So are you ready for glee club today?" Quinn asks once they're inside.

"Ugh." Santana pulls a face after taking another sip of coffee. "Fabray it's too fucking early to talk about the G-word. And _thanks_ for the reminder. Here I'd gone a whole eight hours without it being brought up."

Fucking glee club was all Brittany could talk about this weekend, she was so excited. If she wasn't so sweet and adorable and well _Brittany_, Santana probably would've smacked her by now.

"Still not looking forward to it, huh?"

"No." she scoffs. "Aren't you?"

Quinn walks over to her locker slowly. "I dunno." she shrugs. Santana holds onto her tea while she fiddles with her locker combination. "Glee club is certainly something I never would have done on my own but with you and Brittany there, I don't know, it could be fun."

Santana shakes her head, unconvinced. She leans up against the lockers next to Quinn's. "I took a look at the sign-up sheet last week. Saddest bunch of misfits I ever saw. Excluding ourselves, _obviously_."

Quinn returns her smirk. "Obviously." she echoes, making Santana chuckle.

Above their heads the warning bell rings.

Rolling her eyes, Santana grudgingly pushes away from the lockers. She glances around in vain for their other blonde. "Well it looks like Britts is getting chocolate milk after all."

"Thank you for the tea, Santana." Quinn smiles, taking back her cup. "I owe you one."

"No worries." she shrugs, adjusting her bag, ready to leave. "See you later, Q-"

"Call me Q-Tip again and I'll smack you."

Santana laughs shortly in surprise. That was the most casual, off-handed warning she's ever received. "Hey I thought that tea was supposed to make you all calm and nice."

"It does." Quinn closes her locker, then turns to her unapologetically. "But that doesn't mean I still can't be cheeky."

Santana scoffs at her, mildly shaking her head, because really, who even has the word _cheeky_ in their vocabulary anymore?

Quinn breezes past her. "I'll see you in class, Satan. I mean _Santana_." She quickly corrects over her shoulder, a teasing little smile playing across her lips.

Santana watches her go, her brow quirked but lips smiling along. It isn't until Quinn disappears out of sight that it dawns on her that she totally missed her window for responding with one of her signature comebacks.

Her smile falters.

What the fuck, man? That never happens.

—

"Do we seriously have to do this?"

Santana's been asking this question all day, hoping she'd eventually wear Brittany down enough so that once and for all they could get out of this glee club nonsense.

"It's going to be fun, Santana." Brittany maintains, skipping down the hallway, leading the way toward the choir room. "Have a little faith."

Santana, along with Quinn, follows with reluctance. "Fine. But if Mr. Schuester so much as _tries_ to rap, I'm outta there."

She's heard he does that.

The choir room is eerily silent when they walk through the door. But not because it was empty, oh no, there were people alright, just no one was really talking to each other. They were all just sitting and waiting awkwardly for Mr. Schuester to arrive.

It's like one of those first day of school silences, but only worse because this was fucking _glee club_.

The atmosphere was already so goddamn pathetic that Santana doesn't even take more than two steps before turning on her heel and attempting to leave.

"Oh no you don't." Acting quickly, Brittany latches onto her jacket. "Come back here you."

"Brittany I will buy you all the sour patch kids in the world if you let me leave." she begs, silently groaning as Brittany drags her toward the risers. Quinn follows closely behind.

Brittany chooses three seats off-center on the very top level. "Quit being such a baby, S. For all you know glee will end up becoming the best part of your day."

Santana snorts at the very idea, then takes to the seat in the middle of her two blondes. "I highly doubt it. But if I ever do say that, for whatever reason, feel free to lock me up in an institution because I clearly have had lost my mind."

Quinn shifts one leg over the other, chuckling mildly. "Duly noted, Santana."

A few seconds later, three more students trickle into the choir room.

Seeing the letterman jackets first and foremost, Santana's brow furrows. Football players in _glee club?_ Was this some kind of joke?

"I heard Mr. Schuester's blackmailing into joining the club." Brittany whispers, leaning in so both her and Quinn could hear. "Apparently he found drugs in their lockers but agreed not to report them if they joined."

"Schue must have found Estrogen in Hudson's locker." Santana murmurs, eying the ridiculously tall quarterback in particular as he and his buddies take seats opposite them. "I mean look at those man titties. They're almost as big as mine. "

She shakes her head, partly in awe and disgust. "For all our sakes I hope Santa Claus gives him a training bra for Christmas. Ain't nobody want to see those powdered pastry nipples on a day to day basis."

Quinn and Brittany both laugh, then stifle it behind their hands when Mr. Schuester walks into room.

The second she takes in his Blossom style vest, that ridiculously gelled hair, and hideously optimistic smile, Santana decides it's perfectly acceptable for her to check out of the conversation before it even starts.

So for the next ten minutes or so she reverts to autopilot mode, opting to file her nails instead of taking part in this introductory meeting.

She would have gladly done this the entire meeting had Mr. Schue not suddenly clapped his hands together after his little welcoming speech and beckoned them forward.

"Okay everyone up out of your seats and come out onto the floor."

Santana grudgingly follows Quinn and Brittany down the risers. "What the hell are we doing?" she asks even though she's pretty sure she's better off not knowing.

Quinn sighs, looking about as excited about this whole thing as everyone else in the room was. "Playing one of those 'get to know each other' games."

Santana's eyes fit to the ceiling. _Lord help her_.

She fucking hates when teachers pull this shit. If she had wanted to get to know any of these losers better she would have done it already.

Once everyone is out of their seats, Mr. Schuester rolls up the sleeves of his button-down shirt. "Alright guys, I'm going to set my watch for three minutes."

While he speaks, he moves people around the room and partners everyone up. "In that time I want you guys to introduce yourself to the person I've placed front of you, and each say five interesting things about yourself and why you joined glee club, then when time's up, we're going to keep rotating until everyone has met with each other. Okay?"

"What is this show choir or speed dating?" Santana mutters to no one in particular, shaking her head in disbelief.

The next hour turns out to be the longest fucking hour of her entire fucking life. And with no signs of it ending any time soon, Santana's beginning to seriously contemplate _Schue-icide_.

"Alright guys." Mr. Schue shuts off his timer when it goes off for what feels like the hundredth time. "Switch."

Santana throws her head back in a silent groan.

Shoot her.

Shoot her now.

She feels like she already met with everyone in the room twice already. Jesus.

First there had been Wheels - er, Artie - the AV geek who hds a thing for role playing fantasy games and Monty Python. And was surprisingly pervy for a nerd. (He practically ogled her chest the entire three minutes and she's pretty sure at one point he referred to his penis as 'Excalibur').

Then there was the socially awkward goth. Aka Girl Chang. Aka Tina. That girl stuttered so much that Santana's patience was all but nonexistent by the time they were though.

The only thing Santana learned about Ching-Chang was that she had a dog named 'Little Brother'.

...or a little brother named 'Dog'. She forgets which. Either way the girl was all kinds of strange.

After Tina was the _other_ Asian. Aka Boy Chang. Aka Mike, a dance and martial arts enthusiast who hardly spoke. She'd once heard through the grapevine that his dad was like a former military general or something. But she's pretty sure he comes from a family of ninjas.

And then there was Puck. The delinquent thief who once stole his mother's volvo and drove it through a convenience store window, then tried to drive away with the ATM in tow. Said he was going to give it to "_charity"_.

Charity being the stripper he used to date.

The guy was a total egghead but one she occasionally tolerated, so every once and a while they'd hang out. Mainly at the Rabbit Hole - the local bar - when they liked to indulge in a little underage drinking together. And buffalo wings.

"Santana?"

Santana blinks out of her daze and is dismayed to find Finn Hudson and his gigantor frame towering in front of her.

"What do you want, Finnept?"

His brow furrows at the name but recovers quickly. "We're supposed to you know...get to know each other."

Santana just stares at him.

"Well, okay. I can first if you want." he offers, sitting down in front of her. He drums his hands on his lap nervously, unsure of where to start. "Well my favorite food is grilled cheese sandwiches and I enjoy camping, being out in woods and nature and stuff."

Santana can't help but roll her eyes. She already knows this. Whenever she takes a run through the hiking trail she always sees him and Puck out there camping and hunting with their football buddies. Or their 'Merry Men' as she liked to call them because the whole 'bonding' thing was so like something out of Brokeback Mountain it was ridiculous.

"...I'm pretty good with a crossbow. But Puck's way better. I don't particularly like shooting stuff, like actual living stuff, like animals, but there was this one time I accidentally got the mailman with my BB gun. I was like eleven and it was actually really traumatizing-"

Unable to take anymore of this, Santana pushes herself upright without warning.

Finn frowns at this and looks up at her. "Where are you going?

"Bathroom, Finnocence." she glares, stepping down the riser. "I'd rather flush my head down the toilet than listen to you babble on like the overgrown infant that you are."

While in the bathroom Santana debates not returning to the choir room at all, but then she thinks of Brittany and Quinn, and those blondes are enough to keep her from ditching.

Unfortunately by the time she gets back everyone has switched partners again and when she locks onto the one person currently without a partner, she instantly regrets her decision to come back.

It's the moment she's been dreading.

Rachel Berry doesn't even need to open her mouth for Santana to be overcome with a splitting headache.

"Shove it, Berry." she says before the hobbit can properly approach her with some kind of a wordy greeting.

Santana walks past Rachel and goes over to the risers to retrieve her bag. She sits down next to Brittany who was in the middle of chatting with Mercedes while she searches for her lunch.

When she successfully finds the apple she'd been saving, she polishes it on her jacket before taking a huge ass bite. She was going to need the energy boost if she was going to last these next three minutes without committing homicide.

While she chews she notices Mercedes staring at her.

"Sup, Wheezy." she acknowledges, smirking because she knows the girl hated that name.

As expected, Mercedes is unamused. "Bitch I will take you to the carpet."

"Wanky."

Mercedes cracks an unwitting smile, her eyes rolling as they revert back to Brittany.

Her and Mercedes kind of had a rivalry going - the two of them usually trading insults more than anything - but Mercedes was alright in her books. They actually had a lot in common.

Mercedes, like herself, waitressed at her family's restaurant. It was a small hole in the wall joint that specialized in cajun cuisine. And like herself, Mercedes had dreams beyond her family's expectations. Mercedes was saving to get out of Storybrooke to pursue a singing career. Though, as far as Santana was concerned, homegirl could easily make a living as a famous chef, having inherited her family's epic culinary skills.

(Not that 'Cedes would ever hear that praise from her out loud).

Aside from breadsticks, Santana's favorite food was Mercedes' beignets. Those things were _the_ bomb. Every time Mercedes brought those bad boys to school, Santana immediately traded them for her cafeteria tots.

Those golden potato nuggets were like Mercedes' kryptonite. Girl was legit cray-cray over them.

Just then someone clears their throat.

Santana blinks, then glares at Rachel for interrupting her thoughts.

"So, um," Berry shifts in front of her nervously before ultimately taking one of the chairs and turning it around so that it faced Santana. "Would you like to go first or should I?"

Santana rolls her eyes. "Bite me, Berry."

A look of hurt flashes across her face before Rachel chooses to dismiss the hostility and press onward. "You know when I saw your name on the signup sheet, I'd surely thought it was some kind of joke."

Santana speaks around her mouthful. "Why?"

Rachel shrugs, her hands resting on her kneecaps. "You just don't seem like the glee club type." she says honestly.

Santana can feel her eyes narrow at that comment. "Newsflash Berry you're not the only one at this school with talent. Hell I have more talent in my pinkie than you do in your entire dwarf body."

Beside her, Brittany nudges her, shooting her that _play nice_ look.

Rolling her eyes, Santana grudgingly offers up her apple. Because she sure as hell isn't going to apologize. "Want some?" She then throws Brittany a quick look that basically reads, _There. Happy?_

Rachel turns her chin, politely declining with a wave of her hand. "No thank you. I don't care much for apples."

"Who doesn't like apples?" she snorts, before tearing into the rest of her fruit.

"I had a bad experience with one once." Rachel explains, surprisingly opting to be vague for once. "A traumatic one."

"Find a worm in it?" she guesses boredly.

Wait. Why is she making conversation?

"I once found a mouse in my spaghetti." Brittany throws in randomly, listening in on their conversation.

"Yeah well, you know what they say an apple a day keeps the doctor away." Santana tosses her apple core into the trashcan a few feet away. Then, as her gaze returns to Rachel, tilts her head. "Though by the looks of it you might be wanting a doctor to come your way." Santana leans in closer and inspects the side of the shorter girl's face. "Seriously Berry that schnoze is like the size of South America. Don't Jewish girls usually get nose jobs for their bat mitzvah?"

Rachel crosses her arms in a huff, miffed. "I am perfectly content with my appearance, Santana. Just like Barbra Streisand, who despite her dazzling beauty was pressured throughout her career to get a nose job. And besides not all of us can afford plastic surgery." she throws in on a whim, pointedly eyeing her chest.

"You better watch it, RuPaul." Santana warns, admittedly caught off guard by that jab. "I'll have you know that these are not fake!" She cups her girls to emphasize all her god-given, free from enhancement, lady lovliness. "This is my own natural perk!"

"Provided by Victoria's Secret." mutters Mercedes, more interested in what was transpiring than making talk with Brittany, who she was already friends with anyways.

"Screw you Effie." Santana glares, hands still holding her chest. "This thing barely has any padding at all. This au naturale Lopez. Don't be hatin' just because you got itty bitty spider bite titties."

Mercedes scoffs a laugh, her brow arching. "Seriously? My boobs are _clearly_ bigger than yours, Santana. These ain't no spider bites."

Rachel shakes her head and quickly tries to diffuse the situation before a game of 'who's are bigger?' starts up. "Santana let's just please continue with Mr. Schue's exercise. I don't want to get in trouble."

Santana just rolls her eyes, because really like Mr. Schue would actually punish them for not doing what he said. This wasn't even a fucking class.

"Here, okay. I'll go first." Rachel tries again. "Five things about me-"

"Shove it, Berry. I already know more about you than I care to admit. You're short, obnoxious, hyperactive, you clearly have a thing for deer sweaters, anything even remotely argyle, you're a vegan - vegetarian whatever, and you've clearly got the hots for Lumps the Clown over there."

Rachel blushes hard at that last one. Santana smirks, reeling in the girl's embarrassment and at the fact that she's sitting in the riser above Berry, making it easy for her to look down at her.

The moment is thankfully interrupted by Mr. Schuester's obnoxious timer. "Okay, guys." he calls to them. "One more round, then you're free to go."

Santana groans internally after her gaze flickers to the clock overhead. She wasted her _entire_ lunch period for this shit?

Now royally pissed off, she remains slouched in her seat while everyone gets up and moves around. Whoever the hell she had left to talk to could come to her.

"Hey stranger."

Santana recognizes the voice instantly and as a result her head snaps to attention. Her irritation blows out like a flame on a candle.

"Long time no see." she smiles in return, straightening her posture just as Quinn comes around to sit next to her.

At least Schue saved the best for last.

"So, what were you and Lady Elaine Fairchild talking about?" she wonders, having noticed while she was tuning out Berry that Quinn had been talking quite animatedly with Kurt Hummel about something.

"Books mostly. Kurt really likes to read."

"Figures." she scoffs. "That little he-she is always in the library."

The nerd.

"It's the only place where he isn't harassed by bullies." Quinn explains in his defense.

Kurt, with his rosy cheeks and perfectly coiffed hair, was the perfect target for bullies. It was obvious by his straight from Project Runway fashion sense that the kid was capital G-A-Y but he had yet to officially come out of the closet. Still that denial did not deter the bullies from shoving him into lockers or giving him slushie facials.

Honestly, Santana felt for him. The only reason no one ever gave her any flack when she would walk down the halls, pinkies linked, with Brittany was because she was a girl. A very hot and very intimidating girl, but a girl nonetheless. Teenage boys were more than okay with the idea of girls liking other girls - she's pretty sure all the rumors of hers and Britts' 'relationship' were grade A source material for their spank banks - but for guys like Kurt, they were shown no mercy.

Kurt tried to bury his head in books, in attempt to keep a low profile, but the poor kid didn't realize his outfits made sure that would never happen.

"So how'd it go with Rachel?" Quinn asks curiously, shaking Santana out of her thoughts.

"She's now number one on my hit list." she responds casually.

"Oh?" Quinn chuckles. "And who was number one before her?"

"Ellen Degeneres."

Quinn merely raises her brow in response.

"What?" She frowns defensively. "She freaks me out. Always smiling and shit. No one's that happy. Unless you're self-medicating, which I bet she is. And I'm pretty sure she keeps those little british girls, the ones always wearing the tutus even though they stopped being cute like four years ago, locked in her basement when she's not trotting them out like show ponies. She says they return home to England when they're not on the show but really I think she's got them working in her sweatshop against their will, making her underwear for her. The reason the fabric's so soft is because it's made from poor little Sophia Grace's sweat and tears."

Quinn shakes her head, trying valiantly not to smile like she wants to. "Santana, that's just..." she trails off, without the right words to finish that sentence. A bit of stifled laughter bubbles out of its own accord.

Santana just sits back with a triumphant smile on her face. Making Quinn laugh was no easy feat but she definitely was getting more chuckles out of her these days.

"Anyways." Quinn blows out a calming breath once she recovers. Then lifts her gaze to meet Santana. "You're supposed to tell me five things about yourself." she reminds expectantly.

Santana chuckles. She hadn't thought they needed to play Schue's lame ass little game but whatever. There was still a lot she didn't know about the blonde and she'll bite if Quinn does.

"Okay." Santana clears her throat before starting. "Legend has it when I came out of my mother I told the nurse she was fat."

She smirks at Quinn's eye roll. That one was pretty obvious, she'll admit. But she wasn't taking this seriously. Not really. Her only goal was to keep that adorable smile of Quinn's from fading.

And if that meant spouting absolute nonsense, she'd totally do it.

"Also, you can't tell but I have razor blades hidden in my hair." She gestures around her hair, making Quinn scoff a laugh. "Tons. Just all up in there."

"You planning on shanking someone?"

Santana guffaws loudly at that. "How does a girl like you know the word _shank_?"

"I watch tv." she shrugs innocently, that baby smile still playing across her lips.

Santana shakes her head, making a mental note to ask what the hell kind of tv she watched. "Uh, what else?" It takes her a second to get back on track.

"Well I'm kind of obsessed with breadsticks, but I think you already knew that."

Quinn nods. "From Tony's, right?" The town's sole Italian restaurant but mostly all the kids nicknamed it 'Breadstix', for obvious reasons. "You know I heard they don't even bake them fresh, they just fly them in frozen from the Dominican Republic."

Santana's smile fades at that remark. "You should probably steer clear of insulting my beloved sticks." she warns, only partly teasing. "When I get really pissed off, Santana gets taken over by my other evil personality. I call her Snix. Her wrath of words is called Snix Juice." she deadpans, though admittedly it was hard to keep a straight face when Quinn snorted an uncharacteristic laugh. "I'm kind of like the incredible Hulk. You can't blame me for anything Snix does, so you best watch what you say from here on out."

"I'll keep that in mind." It was obvious Quinn did not take her alter-ego story seriously, but Santana can't really bring herself to care really.

"Okay." Santana crosses her arms and nods at the blonde. "Your turn."

"Hey, that was only four things." Quinn points out quite indignantly.

Santana rolls her eyes scoffingly. "Psh, that was like thirty. Your turn, bitch. What's your favorite food?"

Quinn thinks about it for a moment. "It'd have to be a tie between bacon and chocolate."

"Have you ever tried them together?"

Quinn shakes her head. "No. Though I'm sure they wouldn't be half bad. I do love sweet and salty combinations."

She waves the thought off though. "You're distracting me. You still have to tell me one more thing about you."

"Fine." Santana pushes herself upright because the bell had just rung. "I once made out with a mannequin."

She shoulders her bag and stares at the blonde, brow raised. "There. Happy?"

Quinn's dumfounded expression was absolutely priceless. "Wait. What?"

—

Lately Santana hasn't been sleeping well.

The strange dreams that have been plaguing her intermittently were now becoming like a frequent thing. They annoyed her for many reasons, but what she really fucked hated was the fact that these dreams were always so goddamn intense that inevitably every time she had one, her subconscious would wake herself up out of it like it was some kind of really bad nightmare.

But the thing was these dreams weren't nightmares. Sure she'd wake up with her eyes flashing open, her body bolting upright, and her heart pounding like they were but it didn't feel like it was out of fear.

But then again what the hell did she know? The memory of her dreams always faded fast on her, dissolving into nothingness long before she could get her bearings, let alone figure out these dreams. It was ironic (and incredibly frustrating) that something so vivid, and visceral enough to actually rip her out of unconsciousness, could slip through her fingers so easily.

Santana exhales deeply and stares tiredly up at the ceiling in her darkened room. This shit needed to fucking stop already.

Kicking away her sheets, she then throws back her covers altogether and gets out of bed. Her body's still running on the adrenaline high from her sudden awakening so even as she pads across the cold wooden floor barefooted, Santana feels warmer than usual.

A lot warmer.

As she walks over to her window, she rolls her stiff neck around and scratches at a nonexistent itch along the side of it, suddenly with that creepy crawling feeling dancing along her skin.

She shudders, then rolls her shoulders to shake off the feeling.

She knows she sometimes joked that she was like a lizard and always needed something warm beneath her otherwise she couldn't digest her food, but right now she legit feel like that could very well be true.

She honestly felt like she needed to shed her skin or something.

God damnit.

Stepping forward, Santana pushes her forehead against the windowpane, relishing in its cold surface. She lingers there for a moment, even going as far as pressing her cheek against the glass too, before slowly pulling away. The window is frosted but not enough to completely obscure her view.

It's the same view she's known her entire life but she liked it all the same, occasionally stopping to to admire it if for no other reason. It was comforting to her in a way.

While she props her arm up against the window and rests her chin there, her gaze flickers past the town itself to the forest that bordered it. One glimpse of those evergreen trees and suddenly her bones are aching, desperately _craving_, for a run.

If Santana was in her right mind (and by that she means awake) she'd probably sooner commit murder than so much as step out onto the front porch at this hour, but every so often on nights like these, running out her restlessness is the only solution.

—

She knows what she's doing isn't safe, what with all the ice and snow everywhere, or healthy for that matter, but she can't really bring herself to give a damn when tearing through the trees makes her feel so fuckin' _alive_.

She knows this path like the back of her hand so she runs it over and over again, barely pausing to take a breath. But eventually, after a fair amount of time whipping through the trees like some kind of crazed red blur, she starts to slows her pace.

When she finds herself mildly jogging, she figures it's time to head back and at least try to get in a couple hours sleep before school.

Once she returns to town, she decides to take the shortcut through the park. She maintains a steady pace the entire way, only slowing for a brief second to see if the snowman she'd built with Brittany and Quinn happened to still be standing. She's pleasantly surprised to see that it was - she would have thought for sure that some bratty kids would have demolished him already - but that contentment is short lived, however, the second it registers that Olaf was not the only one out there up on that hill.

Santana skids to a halt, nearly slipping on the icy pavement in the process. _What the -?_

She turns off the sidewalk path without a second thought and runs up the incline, oblivious to the ankle deep snow rapidly soaking through her shoes and socks.

"Are you _fucking_ insane?"

As her voice shatters through peace and quiet, she wonders for a split second if the sound carried through to the entire town.

A startled Quinn whips around to face her, effectively caught off-guard. "Santana?" Her brow furrows in utter confusion. "What are you doing here?"

Here she finds Quinn fucking Fabray, at who the fuck knows o'clock in the morning, out in the snow and without so much as a goddamn sweatshirt on, and _she's_ the confused one?

Santana stares at her in complete disbelief. "What am I-? What are _you_ doing here?" Suddenly furious, she all but rips her jacket zipper down in order to get it off. "Have you completely lost your goddamn mind?"

"Are you trying to get yourself sick?" She hastily shrugs out of her jacket and attempts to cover the crazy blonde with it, but Quinn has the audacity to step back.

"I'm fine."

"The fuck you are." she scoffs. "How long have you been fucking out here?"

Quinn shakes her head. "A while I guess." She folds her arms across her chest, shrugging unknowingly. "I couldn't sleep."

_Like that fucking explains things!_ "So you decided to come here?" Santana continues to shake her head, because seriously, what the hell? "Are you fucking suicidal or something?"

Quinn doesn't answer her for the longest time. Her eyes are burning but she tries to hide it by keeping her head turned away. All the while her hands are wringing themselves together. Quinn doesn't even look conscious of the fact she's doing it.

Santana shifts uneasily, feeling her anger dissipating but her concern growing. Quinn hasn't answered her question and that really fucking worries her.

"Hey." She tilts her head as she steps forward, trying to get the blonde to meet her eyes. "Can you tell me what this is about?" she asks, gentler this time.

"I'm not cold." Quinn finally says, her voice but a whisper at first. "It's below freezing and I'm not cold."

Santana frowns, not understanding. She reaches out and grabs the girl's bare wrist. "You feel plenty cold to me."

But not like the popsicle she expected.

"But _I can't feel it_."

Santana lifts her gaze and sees Quinn trying to distract from obvious fear that brings her by plastering a small sad smile across her lips.

"Look." Quinn pushes back her sleeve and shows Santana her forearm. "No goosebumps. The hairs on my arms aren't standing on edge. My teeth should be chattering like crazy right now, my lips should be blue, I should be experiencing all the effects of hypothermia from standing out here for so long. But here I am and _nothing_."

To prove it so, Quinn reaches down and scoops up a handful of snow in her bare hand. She doesn't even flinch when she curls her hand and crushes the ice into her palm.

"That's not normal."

Quinn shakes her head, a bitter smile escaping her. "You're telling me." She allows the snow to trickle out of her grasp. "I've always been this way, you know? Never really got cold. But lately it feels like it's just getting worse. Like...I don't know. Like I can't feel anything at all anymore."

Santana can't help the way her temperament suddenly flares up again in that moment. She doesn't particularly understand it either, but those words just rub her the wrong way for some reason and send her snapping in a biting tone. "So what, you couldn't sleep and decided to concoct a fucking experiment?"

_One that could potentially land you in the fucking hospital?_

Quinn doesn't appreciate her sudden hostility, especially when she's just trying to be honest, and as a result throws it right back in her face. "What are you doing out here then?" she demands, her eyes flashing. "Last time I checked you couldn't stand to be outside in the cold any longer than you had to. Now you're willing going for runs in the middle of the night when the weather is at its coldest?"

"This isn't fucking about me." she snaps, though admittedly she didn't know what was going on with her lately either.

Quinn shakes her head, exhaling deeply, because really why are they even fighting? "It didn't even occur to me that I'd left my apartment like this until I was out here. And even when it registered, it wasn't because I was suddenly cold. I just..." she trails off, unsure of how to even fucking explain it. "Look I don't know what's wrong with me. I couldn't sleep and I just...I don't know. I felt like I needed to come here." Her eyes flicker to the snowman on her right. Then just as quickly she turns away, her eyes suddenly brimming again.

Quinn pushes a hand through her hair stressfully, starting pace around in the snow. "I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm slowly losing mind and it's just getting worse."

_"Don't you see? It's not getting better. It's never going to get better!"_

Santana blinks, mildly taken aback by...whatever that had been. It was like this conversation had evoked a memory of a similar one they've had before.

Only problem is she's pretty sure this is the only conversation they've ever had like this.

Although she will say that watching Quinn pace around, looking so unlike her usual composed self was bringing about a serious case of deja vu.

It made absolutely no fucking sense.

Maybe they were _both_ losing their shit.

"You've been having nightmares, haven't you?" Santana realizes, remembering how Quinn had mentioned she hadn't been sleeping well.

She almost adds _too_ to that question. _You've been having nightmares too?_

Was there something in the town's fucking water or something? Shit.

"I don't...yes. I mean, they're not _nightmares_ per se. But they're...I wouldn't even know what to call them."

"Really fucking weird dreams."

"I can't even remember them really. Sometimes _maybe_ a fragment will stick with me. But most of the time, when I wake up it's just a feeling I'm left with. Sometimes I'll wake up feeling so stressed out. Other times I'll be left with this inexplicable guilt weighing down on my shoulders." Quinn presses on, her voice nearly breaking. She worries the snowflake pendant she wears around her neck between her thumb and forefinger. "Then there are mornings where I hold so much self-hatred for myself that I can hardly stand it and I have no idea why. I just do. These dreams, I can't remember them but I certainly can feel their effects. If that makes any sense."

Santana really wishes Brittany was here. She was so much fucking better comforting people than she was. "Look, I honestly don't know what the fuck is going on with you." _Or with me, for that matter_. "But I do know one thing: you're not crazy."

Quinn shakes her head, appreciative but disbelieving. "You don't know that."

"If I so much as thought you were even a little nutsy cuckoo, I wouldn't be hanging around you, Fabray. Santana Lopez don't do crazy."

Quinn smiles faintly, sniffling slightly. Santana can't help but shake her head a little at the sight, because really no girl should look _that_ good with those telltale streaks of tears trailing down her cheeks.

"Anyways." Santana pushes aside those distracting thoughts. "Just because you're like a legit snowflake and the cold doesn't bother you doesn't mean being out here is okay. So right now I'm going to take you home. But before I do you're going to take my jacket and put it on before I fucking slap you stupid." Once again Santana extends her jacket out to her. "And don't think that I won't."

Rolling her eyes briefly, Quinn acquiesces. "How are you not cold?" she wonders shortly thereafter, shrugging on her jacket one arm at a time with a furrowed brow.

Santana glances down at herself, realizing for the first time that she's been standing out here without her jacket one and yet hasn't shivered once. To be quite honest she still felt like she was running on her adrenaline high from earlier.

"Hot people don't get cold." she settles for instead.

Quinn stares at her, eyes wide with disbelief. Her shoulders slump accordingly. "Seriously? You tell me this now?" She shakes her head in mock incredulity. "Well now all this makes sense."

Santana snorts, rolling her eyes. Though she's actually quite relieved Quinn was able to joke about it. "Bitch you are not hot."

She smirks at the blonde's faltering expression. "Cute, _maybe_. But only if you squint like really hard, like at a distance."

Santana's barely able to sidestep out of the way of Quinn's oncoming fist. "Jerk."

—

"Nice place you got here." Santana compliments shortly after being invited inside Quinn's apartment.

"Thanks."

While the blonde ventures to the kitchen, Santana pulls her hair out of its high ponytail (she liked to keep it up while she ran) and shakes it out, hoping the moisture outside hadn't made it frizz too much. She steps further into the apartment to get a better look at everything.

Quinn's place was by no means a penthouse suite but it definitely wasn't a shoebox either. In fact it was pretty spacious, she'd go as far as to say maybe even _too_ spacious for just one person, and despite the palette of predominantly cool colors, the space had an unmistakable warmth to it.

To Santana's left was the kitchen and to her right the living in front of her was a small hallway leading to one door at the very end of it and two doors on either side. Two bedrooms and a bath, she guessed.

Neither area had so much of an ounce of clutter. Not a pillow left unfluffed nor a dish left unclean. And though the apartment was clean it wasn't immaculate, which Santana liked. It held a homey atmosphere thanks in part to the vintage-y decor, with a common motif being snowflakes.

Fortunately they weren't thrown all over the place obnoxiously, just scattered here and there, making little appearances on certain things like the dishtowels or on a candle.

Overall the whole apartment had a wintery vibe to it but it was very subtle. It wasn't like someone had barfed Christmas all over the place.

"Would you like something to drink?" Quinn asks from the kitchen suddenly. "Tea? Coffee?"

Santana shakes her head, all the while gravitating to the large bookshelf that not only housed books but Quinn's music and movies too. "None for me thanks."

Though coffee sounds like it'd hit the spot right about now, she probably shouldn't. Otherwise she'll be up the rest of the night wired like a squirrel.

While Quinn's off doing god knows what, Santana glances over her (surprisingly extensive) music collection. Etta James, The Supremes, Aretha Franklin, just about every album of ever girl group that came out of the 50's and 60's was here.

"You've got a lot of soul for a white girl." she comments, turning her head in time to see the blonde blush.

Chuckling, Santana reverts her attention forward. Quinn also had plenty of '70's rock, like the Rolling Stones and Fleetwood Mac, which wasn't her type of music per se but one she respected.

Further down the row she gets to the more modern stuff. She can't help but smirk when she sees her two favorite girl's albums side by side.

Amy Winehouse and Adele.

"Favorite Adele song. Go."

Quinn laughs shortly beside her. "That's like choosing a child."

"Good thing you don't have any." Santana straightens up and nods. "Go."

Quinn shakes her head unknowingly before eventually settling with. "Her cover of _Make You Feel My Love_ gets me emotional every time I hear it. What about you?"

"Tie up between Rumor Has It and Someone Like You." she responds, her head titled to the side in order to read the blonde's movie titles. "But really it depends on the type of mood I'm in, so it changes pretty frequently."

Quinn just nods understandingly.

"Do you even have movies from this century?" she asks half-jokingly, shaking her head as she comes across one unfamiliar title after another. Most of them were old black and whites from like the '40's.

"You know you don't have to stay here and make small talk with me." Quinn says softly, making her look up from the dvd case in her hands. "I know it's late. I'm feeling...better and you can leave if you want. You know, get back to bed. We do have school in the morning."

Santana quirks her brow at her. "You kicking me out?"

"No."

"You want me to leave?"

Quinn doesn't respond right away but her eyes say it all. After a few seconds, she just shakes her head shyly.

Santana smirks. "Cool beans." Shoving one of Quinn's Spencer Hepburn - or whatever that chick is called - movies back into its slot, she turns around and nods toward the hallway. "So can I see your room?"

Quinn's bedroom has a color scheme of blues, whites, and purples. The walls are covered in a purple patterned wallpaper with a repetitive flower design while the bed is draped in purple and blue linens. Despite the girly colors, her room is much more grown-up and tasteful than the typical teenage girl's bedroom.

"So is your bedroom red?"

Santana scoffs at the question. Is her love of the color _that_ obvious? "No." She playfully glares at the blonde over her shoulder. "My grams wouldn't let me. Which was probably a good thing." Even she'd admit that would probably be overkill. "And Brittany said that with my clothes I'd blend into the walls and just be a floating head. And I was like fuck that, so I went with black."

"An all black room?" Quinn sits perched on the edge of her bed, her brow quirked. "Don't tell me that underneath all that red you're really a goth at heart, Santana Lopez." she teases.

Santana pulls a disgusted face, setting down one of Quinn's little knicknacks. "Ew. God no. I may be a bitch but I ain't like Satan's bitch, devil worshiping and whatnot. The walls of my room are black but there's a lot of red too. And animal print accents. The whole room is fierce. Just like me."

Done with exploring Quinn's room, Santana plops herself down on the blonde's inviting bed. She pats the open space next to her, encouraging Quinn to join her.

There's a moment's hesitation before Quinn moves around to the other side. "If you want I can turn on the heat. If you're cold."

"God no." Santana shakes her head, shifting until she was in a more comfortable position. "I'll fucking melt. This is just fine thanks."

"Are you sure?"

Santana rolls her eyes briefly. "I'm positive. Feel me." Taking the blonde's hand, she places it over her forehead.

Quinn stares at her, surprised. "How are you that hot?"

"Baby I was born this way." she says, smiling cheekily.

Until it registers that she did just in fact quote Lady Gaga.

Yeah, that's not at all lame.

Quinn playfully rolls her eyes at her, then looks at her with legitimate concern. "But seriously. You feel _too_ warm. Like you're coming down with something."

"You're one talk." she scoffs, narrowing her eyes teasingly. "Little Miss Snow Miser."

Quinn just shakes her head and reverts her attention to the ceiling. A couple seconds later, Santana vaguely hears the blonde begin to sing the actual Snow Miser song.

"_I'm Mr. White Christmas,_

_I'm Mr. Snow._

_I'm Mr. Icicle,_

_I'm Mr. Ten Below."_

Santana snorts a laugh the second she hears the familiar tune but doesn't dare interrupt because she really does enjoy Quinn's singing voice...even when she's singing old holiday cartoon songs.

"You know then that makes you Heat Miser." Quinn reminds, glancing over at her.

Santana shakes her head, because really it's so lame singing songs from cartoons made like a hundred years ago, but she'll do it anyways.

_"I'm Mr. Green Christmas,_

_I'm Mr. Sun._

_I'm Mr. Heat Blister,_

_I'm Mr. Hundred And One."_

Quinn snorts a small laugh, making Santana bust up a little toward the end. "Oh, man." Santana wipes at the corner of her eyes, because yeah she got her chuckles on a little too much. "I can't believe I just did that. So fucking lame."

"I guess that makes Brittany Mother Nature then, huh?" Quinn brings up, earning a soft chuckle from Santana. "That's not at all weird."

"No weirder than us being brothers."

"Well it's a good thing we're not."

"Yeah." Santana glances at her and two stare at each other for a moment, with Quinn regarding her rather pensively.

"Santana?"

She closes her eyes for a second, admittedly starting to feel sleepy. "Hmm?"

"Do you ever feel like..."

When Quinn trails off unsurely, Santana opens her eyes. "Like?" she gently prompts, actually curious as to what she has to say.

"I don't know." Quinn shrugs a little. "It's just sometimes when I'm around you and Brittany, I get this strange sense of deja vu."

"Don't worry, you're not crazy." she assures. "I feel that way sometimes too."

Quinn actually looks a little surprised at that. "Yeah?"

Santana nods, smiling a little. There have been times when she find herself staring at Brittany and Quinn and it's like she knows them from somewhere. Like they're familiar to her. Now she knows everyone in town was practically raised with each other, having gone to the same elementary school onto the same middle school, and then to the same high school, but what she feels is different. Like she knows them beyond that. Which doesn't make any sense...but at the same time...whatever.

It's probably nothing. She's just being weird.

"Santana?" Quinn snaps her out of her daze. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Quinn hesitates for a moment. "It's about Brittany."

Santana arches a curious eyebrow, though she has a slight inkling as to what it could be about. "Shoot."

"Have you and Brittany ever...I mean are you two..."

She figured Quinn would ask about them one of these days. They were so close it wasn't uncommon for people to wonder if there was something more there. "We've hooked up before if that's what you're asking. But no we're not dating or anything."

"So you're just friends?" Quinn has to clarify.

"Yeah." Santana nods, laughing slightly. "I mean we used to be like friends with benefits but we stopped that a while ago."

"Why?"

Santana shrugs. "I didn't feel right hooking up with someone I only saw as a friend. The only reason we starting doing it in the first place because I was sexually repressed as shit to the point where I actually considered sleeping with guys again. And well, Brittany offered to help me out." she explains simply. "She'd always wanted to see what it was like, with a girl that is, so we just got into this routine of fooling around whenever we felt like it."

Quinn was silent for a while before eventually asking, "Did feelings ever get in the way?"

"There was definitely a time where I thought I was developing feelings." Santana nods. "I didn't hate the idea of becoming something more with Brittany. So yeah, I waited for those feelings to blossom into something more, for my feelings to get strong enough so that I would want to make that change but they never did. I didn't have like some epihany where I was like '_Oh my god Brittany's it. She's the one.' _And so when I realized that was probably never gonna happen, and I was probably always just going to see her as just my best friend, I was okay with it. It wasn't like devastating or anything."

"And Brittany?"

"She loves me but she's not in love with me, you know? And I don't hold it against her or anything. Brittany's well..._Brittany_. Not one to be tied down. She loves everybody and just does whatever she feels like doing whenever she wants. She dates and I'm happy for her. She'll talk about them with me, ask for advice. And I'm not jealous or anything. As long as they treat her right I don't have a problem. Sometimes though, I don't know I just..."

"You want to have something more with someone." Quinn finishes quietly.

"Yeah." she rasps, her throat suddenly dry from all the talking. "But this town isn't exactly flooded with out and proud high school girls." Sure there was the option of going to Never Land, the one gay bar in Storybrooke, but she never had the balls to go through with it. She was always too worried that someone might spot her there and relay the sighting to her abuela. "But even if there were, I wouldn't...it's not like I'd be able to."

"Why not?" Quinn asks in confusion.

Santana huffs out a sigh. "This town is so fucking small. Everybody always knows each other's business. And my abuela..."

"She doesn't know."

Santana shakes her head quietly. "I mean sometimes it feels like she does but I've never told her outright and she's never asked." It's not like she's bringing guys home, but then again even if she was straight she probably wouldn't do that anyways so her abuela wouldn't suspect. "But the thing about my abuela, she doesn't have to say how she feels for you to know it, you know? Anyways it's pretty safe to say that if I ever came out to her she'd probably flip her shit."

"It's her generation. They were raised to believe differently. Nowadays people are more open."

Santana finds herself looking at her expectantly. "So what are you, Fabray?"

Quinn turns her gaze away from the ceiling and frowns at her. "What do you mean?"

Santana rolls her eyes. "What are you into?" she clarifies. "Guys, girls...possums?"

"I don't know."

Santana eyes her skeptically. "How do you not know?"

"Well I've never been on a date." Quinn shrugs defensively. "I've kept to myself practically my whole life. How am I supposed to know what I like if I've never even tried anything?"

"Well if a girl were to ask you out, would you say yes?"

"It depends on the girl."

"What about a guy?"

"Again it would depend on the guy. Boy or girl I'm not going to accept a date simply because he or she is attractive. I'd have to get along with them. I'd have to want to spend more time with them."

Santana nods, accepting that reasoning. "Okay."

There's a bit of a lull where in Santana feels the need to speak up before the moment passes.

"Whether or not my sexuality is obvious I'd rather this not be the latest gossip at school, so could you not...like you know...mention this to anyone?" she asks, finding Quinn's gaze again. "Not that I'm ashamed or anything. I'd just rather my grams not hear it from anybody but me."

"You and Brittany are my only friends." Quinn responds, frowning slightly. "Who would I tell? Not that I ever would."

"Thanks." Santana smiles weakly. Then sighs tiredly up at the ceiling. "I'll tell her one day, you know. When the time's right. When I'm no longer dependent on her for a roof over my head. So that way if she disowns me I won't be out on my ass."

"You really think she'd react that badly?"

"Oh I know it. My grams is one stubborn old broad. It's something I both hate and love her for."

"I'm sorry." Quinn offers quietly.

Santana just shrugs. "Eh. It is what it is."

Once again, silence passes over them.

But it isn't long before someone speaks up again. This time it's Quinn. "Do you ever feel like you don't belong here?"

"Like the wrong era?" Santana frowns.

Quinn shakes her head. "Not necessarily. I mean like, Storybrooke in general."

"All the fucking time." Santana confirms with a definite nod. "I can't wait to leave. As soon as I graduate I'm so out of here."

Quinn raises her brow in surprise. "Where will you go?"

"Anywhere. Everywhere." Santana shrugs. "I just can't take living in this town any longer. I feel so boxed up. Cut off from the world. Like I'm-"

"Suffocating?"

Santana looks over at her and smiles slightly. "Yeah."

It was uncanny how she could take the words right out of her mouth.

"Santana?" Quinn asks quietly, her voice significantly softer than before.

"Hmm?" She has to stifle a yawn. It was gettting really fucking late. Er, _early_.

"Can you do me a favor?"

Santana blinks tiredly and rolls onto her side, facing Quinn. She tucks her arm beneath her head. "What?"

"When you leave Storybrooke," Quinn stares at her for a moment before quietly requesting, "Take me with you."

Santana smiles sleepily and releases a relieved sigh.

Quinn's brow furrows curiously. "What?"

"I'm just glad you said that." she murmurs, her eyes fluttering open.

"Why?"

"Brittany and I planned on taking you with us regardless." she chuckles softly. "Now I don't have to worry about the cops coming after us on kidnapping charges."

Quinn sighs. "Cops wouldn't come after you."

"Oh no?" she smirks.

Quinn shakes her head. "I don't have any family to report me missing." she explains not at all sadly. "So if I suddenly disappeared no one would miss me."

Santana's smile fades. "That's absolute bullshit."

Quinn rolls onto her side, facing Santana, and curls up with her hands in front of her. "So you'd miss me if I was gone?" she teases tiredly, a small yawn escaping her.

"Yeah." Santana scoffs without hesitation. "Who else would I get to help me with my Calculus?"

Quinn narrows her tired eyes and slugs her arm. "Jerk."

"For a snowflake you sure pack a punch." Santana grumbles, rubbing her arm. "You know what? You've just been downgraded from snowflake status to Ritz cracker."

"That's racist."

Santana snorts. "White people are not a race. Just like white is not a color."

"But white is a color. Black is the one that's not a color."

"Now who's racist?" she teases, earning a playful glare from the sleepy blonde.

"Well at least you were kind enough to make me a name brand cracker and not just a generic one." Quinn mumbles against her pillow.

"You're welcome, Q."

—

Some hours later, Santana awakens to a pins and needles sensation in her left arm.

Groggily, she squints her eyes open enough to see that Quinn was sleeping with her back to her, and her head resting on her arm. Hence the numbness.

"Ay bitch." she mumbles, her brow furrowing. She rolls over and pushes her forehead into the blonde's shoulder. "Get your fat head off my fucking arm."

A slight groan escapes her when Quinn doesn't so much as move. "Levántate!" she all but growls, grudgingly lifting her head and moving in closer to peer over the blonde's shoulder.

Santana picks up a piece of Quinn's hair and begins tickling her nose with it. "Snowflake. Fucking wake up, bitch."

Quinn groans lightly and scrunches up her nose, half-heartedly waving away her own hair. But Santana keeps at it until the blonde rolls onto her other side.

"You're still here." Quinn murmurs, her eyes still closed.

"Yeah well I couldn't very well leave without my arm." she responds roughly, yanking her arm out from under the other girl's head. "And I wasn't about to gnaw that shit off."

"You know I never would have pegged you as the type to cuddle." Quinn breathes out softly, her eyelashes slowly fluttering open.

Santana snorts. "Cuddle? _I do not cuddle_."

"Really because this is the second time I've awoken to you spooning me." she reminds, her sleepy smile now teasing her.

"You backed up into _me_, Fabray." Santana clarifies, moving onto her side and readjusting her position. "I would have scooted over but then I would've fallen off the damn bed. And I wasn't about to sleep on the floor. Fuck that shit I'mma guest here."

Quinn shakes her head lightly before shifting back around. "One of these nights I'm going to be the big spoon." she yawns.

"Already banking on more sleepovers?" Santana scoffs, scooting forward a little. (And it's _not_ because she wants to cuddle, mind you).

"You're the one who can't seem to get enough of me."

"You are so full of yourself, Fabray."

"But you like it."

Santana snorts. "You wish."

—

After making a quick dash home (thankfully her abuela was none the wiser to her sneaking out last night), Santana meets up with Brittany at the blonde's house before school.

Brittany had an important test first period and she wanted to make sure the girl was actually on time for once.

Carrying their usual drinks, Santana walks up the stairs leading to the Pierce's second floor and then strides on through Brittany's open doorway.

"Morning, B." she greets with a bit more enthusiasm that she normally does. Despite spending most of last night talking with Quinn rather than getting some much needed zzz's, she felt really refreshed for some reason.

Her coffee was probably just really strong today.

"Hey, S." Brittany greets back distractedly. None to Santana's surprise, the blonde was hunched over in her usual spot by the window, painting away at her easel. In spite of this Santana finds herself frowning at the sight, as she was pretty sure there were twice as many new paintings scattered behind the blonde since the last time she was here.

"Jesus, Britt." Santana shakes her head as she walks over to the blonde. "Did you even sleep last night?" she asks, half-jokingly.

Brittany evades the question. "Define sleep."

Her shoulders slump in disbelief. "_Brittany_."

"It's fine. I'll catch up on all my sleep later." When Brittany finally turns to look at her, Santana sees the proof of the blonde's insomnia beneath her eyes.

"What the hell is going on with the universe?" she asks rhetorically, turning away with a shake of her head.

Seriously. First Quinn isn't sleeping. Now Brittany?

"I can't help it." Brittany says defensively, pushing herself upright so she could get ready. "Lately I've just been bombarded with visions of all these great ideas...And I tried holding off on them, you know to concentrate on school and stuff, but the the longer I held off painting them the more I felt like a balloon about to explode! I literally couldn't rest until I captured everything down on the canvas."

"Yeah but Britt you can't go without sleep." she reminds, setting down the blonde's hot chocolate on her nightstand. "It's not healthy."

"I know. I know. But like I said I can't help it..." While Brittany rummages through her closet, Santana takes a closer look at her paintings. An elaborate castle, a lone tower, a village scene, a forest landscape...

They were all so familiar to her for some reason. Like _really_ familiar.

Maybe Brittany had at one time showed her the early sketches of them? Or maybe she just got inspired by one of those many animated movies Brittany forced her to watch all the time.

Either way, whatever.

"Okay Friday we're gonna have a trinity sleepover at Quinn's." she decides suddenly, turning back around to face her blonde. "That way I can keep an eye on you two and make sure you two nutjobs actually get in some shuteye."

No more obsessive painting or two am meltdowns.

Brittany throws on one of her favorite tops and stares at her, brow quirked. "Quinn's huh?"

"Whatever that smirk is for knock it off." she warns, earning a broader grin from the blonde.

"Been hanging out there a lot have you?" Brittany waggles her eyebrows suggestively, making Santana roll her eyes.

"No."

"Uh-huh." Brittany walks around her, that lingering smile not going unnoticed by Santana, and scoops up her hot chocolate. "Did you see her last night?"

Santana chokes a little on her coffee. "Where the hell did that come from?" she wonders, glancing back at her surprised.

"Well for one you came in through that door looking ridiculously smiley and dopey." Brittany teases, looking at her through the mirror while she fixed her earrings one by one.

"So?"

"So?" Brittany rolls her eyes. "You are not a morning person, Santana. The only time I see you with a smile on your face this early is when you've done something you shouldn't have. Like put a dead rat in Rachel's locker before school or slip laxatives into Finn's morning OJ."

"You know I never pull the same prank twice."

"Exactly." Brittany nods, grabbing her brush off her dresser and spinning around. "So that cheshire cat grin of yours definitely has something to do with Quinn then."

Santana rolls her eyes again and snorts, for once not seeing the Brittany logic. "Britt that's ridiculous."

"You know if you two are seeing each other you're obligated to tell me." Brittany says, waving her hairbrush around at her pointedly. "Trinity rules."

Santana scoffs slightly and smiles. "Oh, we have rules now?"

"Yep. So are you?"

"What?" Her brow knits together as she lies down on Brittany's bed. "No, of course not. B, we're just friends. Jeez."

Brittany stops and stares at her, her brow raised. "So...you wouldn't mind if I asked her out then?" she asks carefully.

Santana bolts upright instantly, then splutters out, "Huh? You, _what?_ I mean, seriously? You wanna-"

Her brain doesn't even know how to comprehend that.

"Just messing with you San." Brittany assures, taking pity on her, but laughing nevertheless. "Quinn's all kinds of cute but she's blonde and everyone knows that all blondes are in some way related to one another. She's like my sister or something. She is _all_ yours."

Santana silently groans. "Brittany we are just friends."

"For now you are."

Santana sighs heavily, shaking her head inquiringly. "Britt, why are you pushing this?"

"I'm not pushing this." she frowns.

Santana stares at her, disbelieving. "Really? Because you seem to really want me and Quinn to get together even though we _just_ started being friends."

"I can't help it." Brittany shrugs, sitting down next to her and lacing up her sneakers. "When you're around each other, I don't know, you just seem more like yourselves. Happier in a way." She switches over to her other foot. "You guys clearly have something special. Sue me for wanting that something special to turn into something epic."

"Brittany we hardly know each other. How can we...?" Santana trails off, not even wanting to go there. Where ever _there_ was.

Brittany pushes herself upright, holding her hands up in surrender. "I don't know, Santana. I just...I know what I see. What I feel. And I feel like you two are supposed to be together."

"Okay. Fine." Santana stands up too, relenting, wanting to this conversation to end before it could possibly get any more uncomfortable. "Think that all you want. But do me a favor, will ya?"

Brittany shrugs on her backpack and nods at her. "Anything."

"Don't go and try to push us together or anything." she says, her tone firm but slightly pleading at the same time. "No Parent Trap schemes, no...just don't make things weird, alright?" She sighs, turning and shouldering her bag. "The three of us got a good thing going and I don't want things to get fucked up."

"Someone's had a change of heart." Brittany comments, almost sounding surprised. "When Quinn first came into the picture you didn't want anything to do with her and now..."

"Brittany, I just like her as a friend." she interjects, her sigh filled with mild annoyance.

Brittany grabs her things and heads out the door past her, a knowing smile on her lips. "One of these days you're gonna be eating those words."

Santana just rolls her eyes and follows her out of the room. "Yeah, _okay_."

—

From then on her day plays out ordinarily. She goes to class, _doesn't_ pay attention, insults the teachers that try to call her out on it. So aside from being a little moody, she's otherwise her same indifferent self.

Her earlier conversation with Brittany had all but been shoved to back of her mind, where she soon hoped to forget it entirely. She didn't need Brittany's absurd notions floating around in her head, making her question the actual reason why she was coming to enjoy that complicated little snowflake's company.

She just _liked_ Quinn is all. (As a friend).

Ergo she liked hanging out with her.

(Again, as a _fucking_ friend).

There was nothing more to it than that, in spite of what Brittany thinks.

Currently in between classes, Santana struts down the hallway toward her locker. On her way, she passes by one Becky Jackson.

"Outta my way, bitch!" the younger girl snaps, shoving past her.

"Can it, you demented little care bear." Santana throws back over her shoulder.

Becky was the only one at this school who was almost as much of a mega bitch as she was, which Santana didn't particularly mind.

The world needed more bitches.

Her and Becky were practically a dying breed.

Anyways.

Santana walks over to her locker and fiddles with her combination. She's just in the midst of dropping off her Lit book when she picks up on some familiar laughter coming from nearby.

Naturally she glances over her shoulder, not really thinking much of it.

And that's when she sees Quinn...with Sam Evans. The naive farm boy with the ridiculously froggy lips. A kid so gullible Santana could probably sell him the Xanax in her purse and tell him they were magic beans.

Grouper mouth was leaning by the lockers, gesturing animatedly while he spoke to Quinn. Which meant he was either in the midst of relaying one of his nerdy Avatar fan theories or demonstrating one of his god awful celebrity impressions.

Now normally Santana would have just rolled her eyes at the sight and gone back to her business (cause hey, if Quinn wants to talk to fish lips, then she can do just that) but there was something about the whole situation that did not sit right with her. It brought about a sudden twisting feeling in the pit of her stomach, one that left her feeling beyond irritated.

Maybe she'd just scarfed down that granola bar a little too fast.

Maybe Sam's cheesy grin was just really _fucking_ annoying.

Either way Santana slams her locker shut and whips out her phone. She sends a quick text to Brittany before sharply turning on her heel. She was gonna need the blonde to corroborate the lie she was about to tell.

Santana stops in front of the pair and interrupts their conversation. For a second she allows herself to be thoroughly creeped out at how alike they look.

Seriously they could pass for siblings.

Anyways.

"Hey, Q." she greets, ignoring Fish Face all together. "Sorry to interrupt." No, not really. "But Brittany had a little mishap in the art room. Apparently she got paint all in her eyes and is having some trouble washing it out. You think you can give her a hand in the girl's bathroom?"

Thankfully Quinn's too far concerned to bother questioning why Santana doesn't just go and help her herself. "Yeah, of course." She closes her locker quickly and glances back at Sam, smiling apologetically. "It was nice talking to you, Sam."

"Yeah, you too. See you in glee." he waves.

Quinn looks at her expectantly. "Coming Santana?"

"I'll be there as soon as I can. Sylvester wants to see me about something." She rolls her eyes briefly. "And you know how she is."

Quinn nods, understanding. "Right."

Santana waits until she's out of earshot before slowly rounding on the big lipped blondie in front of her. "Well, well, well, Lipsy McChapStick." she begins, her head cocked to the side. "What do you think you're doing?"

Sam stares at her blankly, both confused and intimidated. "Uh...what do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Just like I know what you're doing. And I'm here to tell you to knock it off."

Sam's brow furrows. "Knock what off?" It takes him a minute, but he eventually gets there on his own. "Wait, you mean talking to Quinn?"

Her eyes fit to the ceiling. Lord this boy was slower than a turtle. "Look, it's _obvious_ you want to get with her."

At least Sam has the decency to look embarrassed. He should be.

"Why else would you be trotting out those bad celebrity impressions." Santana raises her eyebrows at her. "I mean, McConaughey, seriously?"

Sam stares at her, slightly unnerved. "How did you even hear that-"

"Irrelevant."

"Okay, yeah." Sam sighs, shifting uncomfortably before admitting, "I've been thinking about asking Quinn out." He shakes his bangs out of his face in order to look at her. "What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is you're only asking her out because you think she's hot and want to get into her pants."

"That's not true." he frowns deeply.

Frowning, by the way, makes his lips appear even guppier, if that's even possible.

"Trout mouth you're a fucking teenage boy." she sighs, rolling her eyes briefly because really, she should not have to fucking explain this to him. "Which means your main goal in life right now is to find as many girls as you can to stick it in. And while I commend you for having the balls to start your search at the very top of the hot girl hierarchy, you obviously need a reality check."

Santana keeps her arms folded across her chest as she steps forward into his bubble. It's a stanky, cool ranch dorito smelling bubble she'd rather _not_ be in but one she'll tolerate if only to get her point across.

"There is absolutely no way in hell Quinn would ever go out with you, alright? Wanna know why?" She doesn't leave time for Sam to respond. "Well I'll tell you, Samuel. Because, for one, she's not into dating people that could very well pass for her brother. You and your kin might be a-okay with incest and enjoying a good old fashion roll in the hay with your cousins-"

"Santana, Quinn and I aren't related."

She holds up a warning finger - one she has no problem gouging him with - in front of his face. "Interrupt me one more time, Grouper Mouth. I dare you. Now where was I? Oh, yes. You might have this sick fantasy of making Quinn the Barbie to your junkless Ken but I'm here to tell you to quit wasting your breath and put it to use filling up balloons for party rental stores or something, cause you two are never gonna happen. Quinn is so far out of your fucking league that every second you waste trying to sweet talk her into going out with you is just another second you add to your already beyond pathetic life story."

Sam wisely chooses to stay silent, sensing she wasn't finished yet. And she wasn't. "Now I know this might take a bit of extra brain power that you just don't have but try and get this through that thick skull you surround with chemically treated hair and back off. You can date whomever you like, just not my homegirl."

"Or Brittany." she adds as an afterthought, nodding more to herself that time. "Yeah, stay away from Brittany too. But especially Quinn."

Santana backs up out of his face. His dorito breath was seriously making her nauseous. "Now in the words of the late great Ray Charles, _Hit the road, Jack_. Your disproportionate face is really a sight for sore eyes and frankly I should not have to be subjected to such horrifying disfigurement. I am too good a person for that shit. I am a candy stripper for Christ's sake."

"Don't you mean candy _striper?_"

"Whatever." she scoffs, shaking her head at him. "Look." Though she really fucking hates touching dudes, she places a hand on Sam's shoulder and turns him around. "I know this school isn't all that big but I'm sure one day soon you'll find a lovely girl who has a thing for nerdy dweebs who can suck the lids off pickle jars simply by inhaling. But today is not that day. And that lovely girl ain't Quinn."

She claps him on the back, _hard_, before dropping her hand altogether.

"Now as long as you take what I said to heart you and I will not have any further problems, okay? But if you don't and you try to pursue my blonde again, one of these days you will know what scalding hot coffee feels like going down your boxers. _Comprendes?_"

"_Your_ blonde?" Sam repeats, turned toward her with one brow raised.

Santana levels him her famous withering glare. "You didn't let me finish. I was going to say my blonde _friend_."

She shakes her head incredulously. "God damn trouty mouth, learn to stop interrupting girls when they're talking otherwise you're never gonna get yourself a date, let alone a girlfriend."

Santana smacks the back of his head for good measure before storming off to her next class.

And people wonder why the fuck the world has lesbians.

—

Ever since that incident with Trouty Mouth Evans, Santana was left feeling _off_. Well, actually, she started feeling off before that - it just wasn't until her talk with Farmer Tuck that things seemed to take a turn for the worse.

For one she was hot _all the time_. Like burning up, 'I'm going to fucking melt and then die if I don't fucking shed my clothes this second', hot.

For all she knew she was going through fucking menopause. (It's like thirty years early but hey, if it fucking keeps her from getting her period).

Another thing was her appetite. Every time she ate - which was like every fifteen minutes - she suddenly turned into Lauren Zizes at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Then there was the matter of her temperament. Being a Latina, yeah she's known for getting fired up relatively easily, but lately it's gotten out of hand. Even for her standards.

Seriously she's starting to lose her cool over the most random shit.

If it wasn't for Quinn and Brittany keeping her in check, she probably would have already cut a bitch. Or several.

Maybe all this was just a really bad case of sexual frustration.

True she hasn't had sex in a while but that usually never bothered her. She wasn't like a nympho or anything.

Although there was that one time had a sex dream about a _shrub_ in the shape of a person...

Whatever the reason for her out of whack self, Santana just hopes it passes soon. She's tired of acting like a fucking animal who's been caged up for too long.

Yanking the auditorium door open with probably more force than necessary, Santana strides down the aisle way toward the stage.

To her dismay she's earlier than she initially realized. Only four people were there waiting, but at least one of those people was Brittany.

"Hey, San." the blonde greets, as she climbs up the steps leading to the stage.

"Hey, B." she greets back less enthusiastically, depositing her gym bag on the floor before plopping herself down next to it.

She really wasn't looking forward to the next hour and a half. Despite the name, she had a feeling these glee club 'booty camp' sessions were gonna be less focused on poppin' and lockin' and more on the jazz hands.

"How was your history test?"

Santana extends her legs in front of her to stretch. "Alright." she shrugs, not really in the mood to talk. "I know I at least passed."

The auditorium doors open again and what sounds like the rest of the club begins trickling in. Santana doesn't pay them any attention though, just keeps stretching out her arms and legs. Cause if she fucking pulls something doing something stupid like a jazz square, she might just maul someone.

"Hey Quinn!" she hears Brittany greet cheerfully.

Naturally Santana lifts her gaze to also greet their friend, of course not as bubbly, but the second she does she instantly wishes she hadn't.

Because, good god. All she sees is legs.

Really long, surprisingly toned, legs.

With the way Santana felt herself gawking, you'd think she'd never seen a girl's bare legs before. She, of course, _has_ seen bare legs and many a pair at that - just not Quinn's.

It being winter, the snowflake usually wore tights or leggings under her skirts and dresses. But not today, not for rehearsal.

As a result, seeing them bare for the first time was like a fucking revelation. Choir singing and all.

"Santana?"

Santana blinks out of her daze to find Quinn staring down at her curiously. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine." she says quickly, hastily pushing herself upright. She's definitely better off without those gams in her direct line of view.

"Alright, guys!" Thankfully Mr. Schue comes onto the stage in that moment and claps his hands together to start things, before Quinn can comment on her weird behavior.

For the next hour, while Mr. Schuester teaches them what is basically toddler level choreography, Santana finds herself helplessly ogling the blonde (who had the audacity to fucking choose to stand in front of her).

Most of the time she isn't sure where her eyes wanted to linger most. On the legs themselves or the tennis skirt from which they sprouted from.

Either way, God bless the perv who invented skirts. God _fucking_ bless.

Wait.

What is she doing?

She was giving Puckerman a run for horndog of the millennium right now, that's what.

And all because of _Quinn_.

Gah. Santana pulls a face like she just caught a whiff of Karofsky's jock strap.

Evidently she was a lot more sexually repressed than she thought.

Santana shakes her head, silently trying to will away over an hour's worth of less than appropriate thoughts. _Alright, Lopez. Get it together. Stop thinking with your lady business_. _You are above that shit._

She just has to think of something non-sexy. Yeah, that's it.

Santana looks around at their sad group of misfits and locks eyes on one Finn Hudson.

Perfect.

_Just think of Finnocence naked. Yeah. Naked and jumping up and down so those man titties start flapping up and down like Dumbo's ears._

Oh god, too far.

Now she just might hurl.

Where's Berry? If she's gotta do a Linda Blair impression it might as well be all over her.

"Doing okay, Santana?" Mr. Schue calls from downstage, walking along the front row to ensure everyone was doing the current move correctly.

Santana swallows hard and nods. "Fine."

Then Quinn does a double pirouette in front of her, causing her skirt to fly up a little.

_Not fine_, she meant to say. _I am fucking not fine._

Shaking her head, Santana sharply turns on her heel and stalks over to the piano. She promptly swipes up her hoodie off her gym bag, then returns to her spot and nudges Brittany.

Brittany stops what she's doing long enough to look over at her. "What?"

Santana merely throws her hoodie at her, then subtly indicates to Quinn with a nod of her head.

It takes a couple seconds but eventually Brittany cottons on.

Wordlessly Brittany goes up to the unsuspecting Quinn and tries to wrap her hoodie around her waist, making the shorter blonde squeak in surprise.

Quinn whips around, startled. "Brittany, what are you doing?"

Brittany nods over at Santana. "Santana thinks you should cover up."

_Damnit, Brittany._

Quinn regards her curiously, her brow furrowed and hands resting on her hips. "What, why?"

"Why?" Santana scoffs rather loudly. "Fabray one of your ovaries just winked at me. Ya needs to cover all that up before before you start a pep rally in every guy's pants."

Quinn stares at her incredulously. "Santana you're ridiculous. I know for a fact this skirt covers up everything that it should. And besides I have shorts underneath."

Regardless of its length, which admittedly was not _that_ short, Quinn's skirt definitely did its job of accentuating those lovely lady legs, not to mention highlighting that cute little ass Santana never realized she had going for her.

And there she goes again.

Damn hormones.

"For fuck's sake, Fabray." Santana snatches her hoodie from Brittany and throws it at the other blonde. "Just cover up. If I have to spend another second being visually assaulted by your mediocrity I'm going to puke. And then everyone here is going to puke and it's gonna get really fucking stinky and slippery and gross."

Quinn rolls her eyes but acquiesces nonetheless and ties her hoodie around her waist. "There, Santana." Quinn lifts her gaze expectantly. "Happy now?"

God damnit. Somehow seeing her hoodie wrapped around her hips just made things worse.

—

Santana ends up leaving booty camp early, unable to think straight - heh - let alone focus on choreography when Quinn was fucking dancing around, looking well...like she was.

So she opts for a run instead, taking off as soon as she was outside and not stopping until she felt some semblance of sanity return to her.

Once she's sure 'booty camp' was long over, Santana heads over to Brittany's house. She enters as usual, jogging up the stairs before delivering a quick knock to the blonde's bedroom door, then simply letting herself in.

"Hey."

A freshly showered Brittany lifts her head from the book in her lap. "Hey you." she greets back, smiling brightly.

Now Santana kind of feels bad for intruding on the one time Brittany was actually taking the time out to study.

"Are you okay?" Brittany asks, as she walks further into her room. "You kind of just bolted out of booty camp. We were all kinds of worried. I covered for you though. Said you had diarrhea."

Santana stares at her in disbelief.

"Kidding." she chuckles, closing her textbook and setting it aside. "I just said you haven't been feeling well."

"I haven't." Santana sighs, turning and flopping face first on the blonde's bed. "I don't know what's wrong with me, Britt. I feel so out of whack."

And she'd felt like a goddamn animal in heat back in the auditorium.

"Yeah, you are." Brittany says lightly, shimmying down the bed to join her. "We must have a full moon coming up soon." She rolls onto her side and props her head up with one arm. "Those always tend to make people go a little loopy."

"I don't see you going nutsy cuckoo." Santana says into the mattress.

"By 'people' I meant _you_, S." she laughs. "I've noticed you have a tendency to get particularly moody around then, though this time it's like ten time worse. Can't imagine why."

"I'm glad this amuses you." she grumbles, lifting her head only to throw her a glare.

Brittany merely sticks her tongue out at her. "If the roles were reversed you'd be getting your chuckles on too." she informs her knowingly. "How Quinn didn't once realize how badly you were drooling over her is beyond me. And people say I'm oblivious."

"Brittany." she whines. "It's not funny."

Brittany's laughter subsides. "I know." She reaches out and begins stroking Santana's hair comfortingly. "You can't help wanting to get your mack on with Quinn."

"What?" Santana lifts her head, then rolls over completely. "I don't - that's not even...Ew."

"Santana." Brittany shoots her one of _those_ looks. "Please. Blind space aliens from Mars could see that you want up on that."

"Brittany we've been over this, I _don't_ like her like that." she insists, prompting Brittany to quirk her brow.

"Oh but you do Santana."

"I don't want her, Brittany." she exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air. "Shit. I'm just...I dunno. Frustrated?"

"Horny, you mean."

Santana drops her arms over her face, silently groaning. "Yeah, I guess. But in my defense it has been a while."

"Well if that's all, then let's take care of that." Brittany sits upright then, without warning, straddles Santana.

"Woah, Britt." Santana bolts upright, shaking her head. "That's not - I don't. It wouldn't feel right." she eventually manages out, after first fumbling with her words.

"_Exactly_." Brittany pushes at her nose, then promptly rolls over off her. Which just leaves Santana very confused. "It wouldn't feel right because you have feelings for Quinn."

Santana head falls back against the mattress. _For fuck's sake, Brittany._ "I do not!"

"Oh no?" she challenges, now standing with her hands on her hips. "Because your recent behavior says otherwise."

Santana props herself up by her elbows, her eyes narrowed. "Bullshit."

Brittany rolls her eyes briefly. "Come on, Santana. First day of glee when Puck tried to put the moves on Quinn, you all but castrated him. And what about that other day? With Sam? Hmm? I had to rub paint in my eyes just so you could keep the lie you told in order to get her away from Sam. Then, if I'm not mistaken, you gave him a very uncalled for verbal smack down."

"So?"

"So?" Brittany scoffs, laughing slightly. "You basically told him to stay away from _your girl_."

"Homegirl, Brittany. Homegirl! Total difference." she exclaims, not at all mortified. "And how did you even know about that? You weren't even there."

"I have my sources." Brittany dismisses vaguely. "Anyways. What about poor Finn today? He just _smiled_ at her and now he's number one on your hit list."

"Is not." She scoffs, then adds. "Mr. Schue is."

It's what he gets for calling her out during booty camp.

"Uh huh." Out of thin air, Brittany waves around said hit list, then opens and shows it to her.

Where Finn's name, is in fact, at the very top. Added above the previous name, Rachel Berry.

Next to his name is a very creative little Frankenteen drawing with his eyes crossed out and a cartoon Santana wearing a pimpin' fedora and pumping him full of lead with her tommy gun.

"You have no proof I drew that."

Then, after a second, she takes back the list. "And that needs to be updated."

"My point is you've been acting extremely possessive of her. Not to mention really jealous."

"Protective, Brittany." she corrects, sitting upright. "And I'm not jealous. I'm just looking out for her - the same way I do for you! If any of those losers tried going after you I'd be up in their face the exact same way. And you know those guys just have one thing on their mind." She crosses her arms defensively. "Someone's gotta look out for her."

"I think Quinn is quite capable of handling herself, Santana. She doesn't need a protector."

"Fine!" She throws her hands up, exasperated. "If she wants to hook up with Fuckerman or Frankenteen or Froggy lips, or hell all three of them at once, she can go right on ahead. But if she gets pregnant or an STD, she better not come crying to me."

Brittany just shakes her head at her. "You're acting very childish."

"Am not." she scoffs.

"Are too."

Brittany raises her brow. "_Santana_."

"Brittany." she returns in the same tone, raising her brow also.

"You're impossible." the blonde huffs.

Santana just smirks. "Tell me something I don't know."

"Oh you." Brittany yanks her up by her arm and pushes her toward the bathroom. "Go take a shower, you smell like a dog."

Santana glares at her over her shoulder. "I resent that remark."

"Take a nice cold shower." Brittany proceeds to playfully order her around. "With those looks you were giving Quinn at booty camp I'd say you definitely need it."

"Bite me, Pierce."

Brittany just laughs. "Save that sweet talk for your _other_ blonde."

—

On Saturdays, Santana works at Abuela's through the afternoon while Brittany volunteers at the local pet shelter. They usually got off at the same time but today Santana's abuela told her to end her shift early. Which, while usually unheard of, was not exactly surprising these days since Santana hasn't been playing the part of hospitable waitress like she should.

Not that she ever, really. Only difference was now when a customer was giving her attitude, she'd just tell them to fuck off and go do something else.

Anyways, Santana takes the opportunity to get in another quick run before meeting up with Brittany to go to Quinn's later. She knows she's been running _a lot, _and should probably dial it back a notch, but she can't bring herself to resist every time she gets the urge.

She's casually jogging through the park when her phones starts to ring. Without stopping, Santana pulls her phone out of her bra and answers the call.

"Hey. What's up?"

"Meet me at the pet shelter. I've got a big surprise."

Uh oh. Those words never spelled good things for her. "Tell me you're not bringing home another cat, Britt."

"Nope. Something better." Brittany thrills.

"_Brittany_."

"Just hurry up and get your butt over here. I'll do this without you if I have to."

Santana doesn't know what that means and frankly she's not sure if she _wants_ to know.

She hangs up without another word and turns back around, running in the direction of the pet shelter.

When she gets there some five minutes later, she says a quick hello to the hipster couple who ran the place, then skirts around their annoying little dalmatian pups that were like everywhere as she heads into the back room where Brittany usually was.

"Look what I got." Brittany sing-songs from behind her, catching her off-guard.

Next thing she knows she's being presented with a big fluffy white puppy that looked more like a bear than a dog.

"Britt, there's no way your parents are going to let you keep him."

Brittany shakes her head. "He's not for me, silly."

Santana doesn't get it. "You know I hate dogs."

"He's not for you either. He's for Quinn. His name is Marshmallow. Isn't he adorable?"

Santana wrinkles her nose distastefully. "He smells."

Brittany rolls her eyes briefly. "You say that about all animals."

"Because it's true."

"He does not smell. I personally gave him a bath myself. He smells like strawberries." Brittany leans in and buries her face into his fur, inhaling deeply. She then offers the puppy to Santana. "See?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure." Santana politely declines a sniff.

"Anyways. What do you think?" she asks expectantly. "Quinn will just love him, won't she? She has to."

Santana shakes her head at her, still very, very confused. "Brittany what is this all about? Why are giving Quinn a dog?"

"He's gonna be an early birthday present for her." Brittany explains, readjusting her grip on the now squirming puppy. "She's a winter solstice baby you know."

No she did not know that. Which begs the question, how the hell did Britt? "How do you know that?"

Brittany shrugs, frowning slightly. "I don't remember. I just do."

"So, what? Quinn told you she wants a dog for her birthday?"

Brittany looks away, smiling sheepishly. "Well no. Not exactly."

Her shoulders slump. "Brittany." she sighs.

"What? He's perfect. He's potty trained and everything. And he can keep Quinn company."

"I thought that's what we were for." Santana mutters under her breath.

"Jealous, San?" Brittany smirks.

She doesn't even bother dignifying that with a response. "What if she's allergic?" she asks instead. "Britt for all you know she doesn't even like dogs."

Brittany looks at her like she's crazy. "How can someone not like dogs?" She cups Marshmallow's cheek and smushes it against her cheek. "Look at this little face. Absolutely adorable."

Santana is unimpressed. Even more so when the dog starts licking Brittany's face. "He probably spent the entire day licking his junk, you know that right?"

Brittany's smile falters. "Santana quit being such a buzzkill, would you?" she pleads.

"Brittany." she sighs again, trying to get the girl to see reason. "You can't just drop a dog on her."

Brittany stares at her pleadingly, eyes all big and sad, her lips drawn together in a pout. "Please, Santana? He really needs a loving home and I know Quinn will just love him."

Santana knows she'll come to regret this later, but goddamn, how the fuck can she refuse Brittany when she's looking at her like _that?_

—

About an hour later, Santana finds herself at Quinn's door carrying a giant ass bag of dog food that probably weighed more than she did.

"If she doesn't want the dog, Britt, he's going back. No exceptions." she reminds while they wait for Quinn to answer the door. "You aren't going to force her to keep him."

"I won't have to." Brittany says smugly, her chin raised confidently.

When Quinn's door finally opens, Brittany lifts Marshmallow like he was fucking Simba from The Lion King. "Surprise!"

Naturally Quinn looks really lost. "What's...going on?"

"I am really fucking sorry about this." Santana offers at the same time Brittany presents her with Marshmallow. "For you, pretty girl."

Quinn opens her mouth to speak but no words come out at first. "But...why?"

"He's your birthday present." Brittany explains, smiling brightly when Quinn tentatively reaches out to pet Marshmallow.

"But my birthday's not for weeks."

"He's your _unbirthday_ present then." Brittany declares happily. "And don't worry he's already potty trained and everything. He's really a good boy. Very obedient."

"Sounds too good to be true." Santana mutters quietly. But not quietly enough.

Quinn chuckles lightly when Brittany hands Marshmallow to her, the pup quite eager to properly acquaint himself with her.

"Do you not like dogs?" she guesses, looking over at Santana while Marshmallow proceeds to lick her face.

"More like competition." Brittany snickers under her breath, prompting Santana to send a death glare her way.

"For your information, I happen to be allergic."

Brittany snorts outright, exchanging a knowing sidelong glance with her. "You are not Santana."

"Are too."

Quinn shakes her head at them both and politely interrupts the interaction. "Well thank you, Brittany...and Santana for the lovely present." She glances at them meaningfully. "I've never had a dog before but I assure you he's in good hands."

"You know you don't have to keep him." Santana feels the need to clarify. "I know I sure as hell wouldn't."

That earns her a sharp nudge in the ribs from Brittany.

Quinn just rolls her eyes and backs up, encouraging them both to come in.

"I'm guessing we're ordering food later?" she says, seeing that while they'd brought over their overnight bags, they hadn't brought any food as originally planned.

"Let's just eat the dog." Santana suggests, kicking the closed behind her. "I hear they taste like chicken anyways."

—

Santana fucking hates dogs.

Really, she does.

Hates them with a fucking passion.

And to a lesser extent, hates herself for being so goddamn wrapped around Brittany's finger.

Whatever. Point is girl's night would have been a hell of a lot more enjoyable if it hadn't been for that stupid fleabag constantly running about, demanding their undivided attention. He's the reason she spends half the night scheming, trying to figure out how to get him out of the picture before Quinn and Brittany can properly get attached.

The best she could come up with was dropping him off on the doorstep of that crazy lady with the salt and pepper hair - the one who always wore the fur coats.

Rumor had it she made those fur coats herself. Skinned the animals and everything...

Anyways.

After the caffeine buzz from all the soda wore out and the tv was no longer worth watching, the three of them had headed over to Quinn's room for bed.

Marshmallow had tried to join them but Santana shut his furry ass out. No way was she fucking sleeping with a goddamn polar bear dog that probably shed like a mofo.

When Santana gets into bed with her blondes, she's so tired she actually falls under the impression that she just might get to sleep through the whole night uninterrupted.

But, of course, her body has other plans, choosing to later wake at who the fuck knows o' clock in the morning for no apparent reason other than what she assumes is the universe conspiring to drive her fucking _loca_.

When her consciousness registers, Santana groans silently and pushes her head back against her pillow. She stays there for a moment, desperately willing herself to return to sleep. Then, when it becomes clear _that_ isn't going to work, shifts to her side to see if that would help things.

Before her drowsy eyes can completely close, she breathes out a small sigh, pleased to find Quinn facing her.

But what doesn't please her is the sight _behind_ Quinn, where Brittany was effectively spooning the blonde.

Santana lifts her head from her pillow, suddenly much more awake than before.

A deep set frown pulls across her mouth. Then, before her groggy brain can even begin to question why seeing them like that is suddenly _not_ okay with her, Santana finds herself plotting how to best break up this unauthorized cuddlefest without either of them waking up.

_Alright, Lopez_.

Santana takes a second to wipe the drool from the corner of her mouth.

_Time for stealth mode_.

Eyeing them both carefully, Santana scoots herself closer to the pair with caution. Then, as gently as she can, removes Brittany's arm from around Quinn. When Brittany unconsciously pulls back and curls her arm up against her chest, Santana releases a quiet breath.

Phew.

Santana rolls onto her back again and sinks back into the mattress, a content sigh escaping her.

Quinn shifts a little at the movement, making Santana tense up, thinking she'd woken her up. But Quinn doesn't awaken, just inches closer to her and curls into her body.

Santana figures it's just because she's warm.

Whatever.

Sighing again, Santana gently moves her arm so it was draped around Quinn instead and allows her eyes to flutter close.

Five seconds later though, her eyes fly open again in realization.

God damnit.

Snapping her eyes shut, Santana silently shakes her head and stubbornly chants a mantra to herself.

_I am the master of my own bladder._

_I am the master of my own bladder._

_I am the master of my own god damn motherfucking bladder. _

Shit.

Feeling that she was definitely not gonna win this round, Santana grudgingly slips out of bed and hurriedly tiptoes across the floor to the bathroom.

When she finishes her business a few moments later, she gently closes the bathroom door behind her and scurries back to the bed. She stops short, however, when she sees that Brittany had snuggled back up to her blonde.

Santana's eyes widen in disbelief. What the-?

"_Sharing is caring_, San." Brittany reminds softly, with a sleepy grin, apparently sensing her eyes on them.

"Fuck that shit." she scoffs quietly.

Stalking around to the other side of the bed, Santana snaps her fingers at her best friend and points behind her. "Levántate!"

Brittany just smiles and shakes her head defiantly, curling into Quinn further. "No way. She's like the best pillow ever. All soft and cuddly." She sighs dreamily, burrowing herself into the blonde's back. "Like a little baby penguin."

"_Brittany_." Santana all but growls, nudging the girl.

But the blonde pays her no attention. "I shall call her squishy and she shall be mine and she shall be my squishy."

"Imma squish your ass if you don't back on up." Santana threatens in hushed tone, in no fucking mood for games. She wants to get her sleep on.

"I'll give her back if you admit it."

"Admit what?" she hisses impatiently, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Admit you want to cuddle with her." Brittany mumbles, already well on her way back to dreamland.

Santana pulls back with an indignant scoff. "But I don't!"

"Fine. Don't admit it." Brittany smiles smugly, her eyes still pleasantly closed. "More Quinn for me."

Santana's jaw tightens. "God damnit, Britt." she swears, too fucking tired for this shit. "I wants to get ma cuddles on. And I wants to get them on _now_."

Santana punctuates her emphasis with a hard jab to the blonde's side. "There. Now _move_."

Though she initially pouts at the gesture, a triumphant smile spreads across Brittany's face. "She's all yours buddy." she sighs, relinquishing her hold on her sleeping blonde friend.

Santana's scowl just deepens as she returns to her side of the bed. She scoots right back next to Quinn, then wraps her arms around her like before.

Not because she _wants_ to, of course.

She's just helping the snowflake out, making sure she gets a good night's sleep and whatnot.

Although, now that Brittany mentioned it, girlie _was_ all kinds of penguin soft.

Over Quinn's head, Santana makes sure to remind Brittany. "You ever tell her about this and I'll send Lord Tubbington to Guatemala." she warns. "They'll make a meal outta him there."

Brittany just rolls onto her other side. "_Goodnight_, Santana."

—

Unbelievable.

No less than an hour passes before Santana finds herself wide awake again. But this time it's not because of weird dreams, or an overactive bladder for that matter.

This time it's because of her goddamn stomach. Which apparently needed more sustenance by the way it was gettin' its growls on.

_Fucking a-_

Santana slips out of bed once again and heads on into the kitchen. When she flicks on the lights, she instantly recoils, her eyes narrowing against the sudden brightness. Marshmallow comes over from the living room to see what she was up to but she pays him no attention.

She decides to raid Quinn's cabinets first but all she can find is a bunch of healthy crap she'd never in her fucking life touch, let alone eat.

Walking over to the refrigerator, Santana yanks open the door and smiles broadly when she's met with the sight of their leftover pizza right in front of her.

_Hello, gorgeous_.

Wait.

What?

That did not just happen.

Santana exhales deeply and shakes her head, pulling out the two pizza boxes. What glee club was fucking doing to her, man.

"Stupid Berry." she grumbles under her breath, closing the refrigerator door with her foot. "And her stupid Yentl obsession."

"Santana?"

Santana starts a little, not expecting Quinn to materialize out of thin air like that.

"You okay?" the blonde yawns, walking her and her serious case of bedhead over to the counter.

"Got hungry." Santana shrugs, waiting by the microwave for her food to heat.

"You trying to eat me out of a house and home, Santana?" Quinn jokes, rubbing her eye tiredly as she notes the pizza boxes she'd taken out.

"Bitch I paid for this pizza."

"How can you even be hungry after all that you've already eaten today?" Quinn wonders, briefly bending down to pet Marshmallow. "Are you purposefully trying to clog your arteries?"

Santana rolls her eyes and stacks her two pizza slices on top of each other. "It's one freaking slice."

"Santana, that's _two_."

"Not when you eat it like this." she denies, meanwhile taking a huge ass bite. "The body doesn't know."

Quinn just rolls her eyes and sits down across from her.

Santana swallows her mouthful and glances back at her. "So what are you doing up?"

"Heard you out here." Quinn responds off-handedly. "While I admit I sleep more soundly when I have you and Brittany with me, it doesn't really take much to wake me up at night."

"Oh."

It only takes one glimpse of that perfectly quirked brow and that impish little twinkle in her eyes, for Santana to figure it out what the blonde was trying to get at.

"I must say Santana you're doing wonders for my ego."

That remark just confirms it.

God damnit.

"Alright." Santana doesn't need her to spell it out for her anymore than that. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough."

Santana just rolls her eyes at that vaguer than vague response.

"And let me just say that never in my life would I have ever imagined having two best friends who fight over who gets to cuddle with me." Quinn says, barely able to keep the chuckle out of her voice.

_Bitch, please_. "We were not fighting over you." she scoffs, shaking her head at the very idea.

Honestly.

Quinn quirks her brow again, disbelieving. "Sounded like you were."

"Yeah well you heard wrong." Santana retorts, grabbing two more pizza slices and walking over to the microwave again. "You must've still been dreaming."

Quinn shakes her head at her incredulously, scoffing lightly. "You're really not gonna admit it, are you?"

"Bitch I've got nothing to admit to."

Sighing, Quinn slides off the counter stool, still shaking her head. "Okay, Santana." she offers teasingly. She's just about head on back to bed when she stops suddenly.

"Before you return to bed, please brush your teeth again." Quinn tells her over her shoulder. "I don't want you and your nasty pizza breath breathing down my neck."

"I'll brush my teeth if I feel like it, Fabray." Santana scoffs, her eyes playfully narrowed. "Ain't nobody tell Santana Lopez what to do."

—

After she's had her fill of pizza, Santana walks back into the bedroom where Quinn and Brittany were fast asleep (but first makes sure that little snot nosed pup doesn't try to sneak in).

As she walks around to Quinn's side of the bed, a brilliant idea comes to her.

This time around Santana doesn't try to keep her voice down. "Hey, Fabray."

She pounces on the girl without hesitation, the motion startling both blondes. "Heyyyy, Fabrayyyy." she says again, leaning in closer and blowing her lovely pepperoni and sausage breath all over Quinn's face.

"God damnit - Santana!"

Moving at lightning speed, Quinn somehow manages to flip them around and shove Santana back into the mattress.

Who knew the girl was part jungle cat.

Quinn's response was so fucking unexpected that Santana can't help but laugh hysterically- even when the snowflake begins smothering her with her pillow.

Brittany, still half-asleep despite all the commotion, barely lifts her head off her pillow when she gives them her half-hearted order to "Stop the violence".

—

Next thing Santana knows, she's out in the hallway, padding across the wooden floor with a pillow in one hand and a blanket in the other.

"I didn't want to sleep in there anyways." she grumbles to herself, still shaking her head because _how dare Quinn throw her out!_ "Bitch crowding me, gettin' all up in my business, drooling on me. No wonder I can't get to sleep."

Santana walks over to living room sofa, aka her new sleeping quarters, and plops herself down on the cushions, arms folded across her chest.

Marshmallow, who'd been sleeping comfortably in his bed by the fireplace, gets up when he hears her come in and automatically goes over to her.

"This is all your fucking fault." she glares at him, shoving her pillow at one end of the sofa before lying down.

Marshmallow whimpers a little and stamps his paws, looking a lot like he wanted to get up on the sofa with her.

Oh hell no.

Santana bolts upright. "Don't even try it, _perro_." she warns, holding up a stern finger. "Just go back to your little bed over there. Go on." she shoos.

Surprisingly the weird bear-dog does as she says and returns to his bed. But not before shooting her _one really_ fucking sad look.

"Nice try, dog." she taunts, shifting around to get comfortable. "But Santana Lopez is way too hardcore to fall for them puppy eyes."

Just then they both pick up on what sounds like Quinn's bedroom door being opened.

Santana smiles triumphantly when she hears said girl's footsteps coming closer. She knew Fabray couldn't stay mad at her.

Sure she was a bitch but she was an _adorable_ bitch.

'Sides making her sleep out here was just plain mean.

Santana's smile falters, however, when Quinn walks right past her without so much as glancing in her direction.

...and picks up Marshmallow instead.

"Goodnight, Santana." Quinn says, casually passing her while carrying Marshmallow back with her to the bedroom.

Santana watches her go, stunned. And fucking _pissed_.

"That is some fucked up shit, Fabray!" she calls after the blonde, whipping around.

She launches her pillow at Quinn, aiming for the back of her head, but it misses her entirely.

"No me gusta!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Definitely volleyed back and forth with choosing the glee kid's counterparts - did anyone actually figure them out? Lol. I don't blame you if you didn't. Some were pretty vague. For some I just gave you like <em>one<em> keyword. Sorry!  
><strong>

**I will say while some of their alter egos have been introduced on OUAT already, that doesn't mean I'll be following how the show handled them completely. Although for some their plot lines might be similar at first.**

**Also some of the glee characters might end up being more than one fairytale character, just like OUAT sometimes does. In this story for example I've made it clear that Santana's not only Little Red Riding Hood but also hinted that she was also the (platonic) Flynn Rider to Brittany's Rapunzel from Tangled. If you watch the show, you'll understand, if not you'll get it soon.**

**I'm probably getting ahead of myself, and probably confusing you all, but a few characters' identities be revealed in the next chapter as we return to the Enchanted Forest, so yeah... hopefully that will help to clear things up. **

**Hopefully you'll stay tuned, and as always your reviews are greatly appreciated! I really do love hearing your thoughts.  
><strong>

**Until next time!**


End file.
